Unexpected
by Kristen Elizabeth
Summary: "Ah mean...ya know me and him didn't just play cards in that cave that night."
1. Even angels fall

Disclaimer: The X-Men do not belong to 'lil ol' me, but to the good people at Marvel Comics and 20th Century Fox, now too I guess. I am making no money off of this fic, much to my chargrin;)   
  
Author's Notes: Although I've been a huge X-Men fan for years, this is my first real attempt at a fan fic for it. I say real because there was one other that will never, ever see the light of day so long as there is breath in my body. Hopefully this one is better. I'm a devoted priestess in the church of Rogue and Gambit, so if you're looking for slash, move it along, pal. Nothing's wrong with it; I just don't write it. Also, this story can be construed as an alternate telling of the comic book universe, beginning after Gambit's infamous trial in Antarctica, although I'll be weaving cannon plot points in wherever I can. I hope you enjoy!!   
  
****  
  
Unexpected  
  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
Antarctica was a hemisphere away, but it felt more like a lifetime to the woman who sat on the roof of Xavier's School for Gifted Children watching the moon as it hung, full and luminescent, over the eastern United States. A strong breeze pushed through her chestnut and cream colored hair, but she couldn't feel the cold. She hadn't been able to feel much of anything in the past dozen or so weeks. Except maybe one thing.   
  
Loss. Loss so potent and painful that there were times she hadn't even wanted to keep breathing. What was the point, she'd thought at those times. In her short, but action-packed life, she'd been given one good thing mixed in with all tragedy, rejections and heart-aches. But that one thing was gone now. And she had no one to blame for that but herself.   
  
If she'd had any tears left, they would have been flowing. She hung her head and cursed rather loudly. This was what love did to you. It got you enchanted, under its thrall, to the point where you'd be willing to do just about anything for that one other person. Then, like a rattlesnake, it'd whip its head around and sink its teeth into your ankle, fill you up with poison, and leave you to die.   
  
Leave you to die. Just like she'd left him to die. Was he dead? She couldn't feel him anymore, couldn't even hear him in her head. Or had she cut any connection when she'd walked off with the rest of the team through the snow and wind, denying him his home, his friends, and what he most wanted, herself? Even if he had managed to survive, would she ever even know?   
  
"Prob'ly not, sugah," she told herself, standing up on the steep slope of the shingled roof. With both of her hands, she caught the mass of her hair up onto the top of her head and held it all there for a moment. "Prob'ly not."   
  
"Rogue."   
  
She nearly slipped and fell when she heard the voice behind her, but two furry, blue hands caught her before she could. "Hank! Ya scared the hell outta me!"  
  
"I am sorry." Dr. Hank McCoy considered her carefully from behind his small, wire-rimmed glasses. He still had his white medical coat on; obviously he had climbed onto the roof straight from the lab. "Perhaps if you had chosen a safer place to take a quiet moment..."  
  
"Ah like the view," she replied, crossing her gloved arms over her halter top. There was a long pause. "Hank, what're the..."  
  
The gentle creature they called Beast held up one hand. "The Professor wishes to speak to you, Rogue."  
  
"Why?" The lump that had been rising in her throat became impossible to swallow.  
  
"I'm certain he wishes to explain himself. He is waiting for you in his office." Hank offered her his arm. "I will take you down."  
  
"Ah can fly, sugah," she reminded him. "How do ya think Ah got up here?"  
  
Hank gave her a solemn look. "It would be best if you didn't from now on."   
  
Her knees turned to jelly and her stomach grew tight. "Then...it's for real? Not just some sorta...fluke?" He said nothing. "Hank! Talk to me!! This is my life...my body we're talkin' 'bout! Ah have a goddamn right to know!!"  
  
"Yes, you do. But I think you already do know, Rogue. And you have for awhile."   
  
The patience and calm in his tone was almost too much for her to take. Her chin trembled. "Ah...Ah swear...Ah wasn't sure. Ah mean...Ah suspected. But Ah just thought...it couldn't happen like that. It shouldn't have happened like that. Oh my lord..." Her green eyes filled with the tears she thought had dried up forever. "Ah don't know if Ah want it to be true. Hank? Please...just tell me it's not true. Please."  
  
"You know that I cannot. Because you know it *is* true." He extended his arm again. "Come downstairs and speak with the Professor. He is not angry with you, Rogue. He is only concerned for your well-being, physically and emotionally."  
  
"But...Ah'm not well, am Ah?" she whispered.  
  
He smiled wryly. "It's hardly a disease, my dear. If we take the proper precautions and monitor every step along the way, there's no reason why this can't be a joyful event."   
  
"Joyful?" She shook her head. "Maybe ya'll can be joyful 'bout it. But all Ah see is a problem. And one-half of the cause of it isn't here. And won't be comin' back. Ever." Rouge froze. "Oh god...he ain't never comin' back, Hank."  
  
She wasn't sure when she started to pass out, but the doctor must have caught her again and carried her inside safely, because when she woke up again, she was lying in her own bed. Professor Charles Xavier sat in his hover-chair next to her, concern evident on his kind face.   
  
"Are you all right, Rogue?" he asked her.   
  
"Ah...don't know." Her hands dropped down to her flat stomach. "Ah guess not."   
  
The older man reached for her hand; she could feel his warm strength even through the material of her gloves. "Perhaps you should tell me what exactly happened in Antarctica."   
  
"Isn't it obvious now?" Rogue asked, rather bitterly. "Ah mean...ya know me and him didn't just play cards in that cave that night."  
  
"I wouldn't have expected you to have."  
  
She blinked. "Ya mean...yer really not angry 'bout it?"  
  
"Why would you think that I would be, Rogue?"  
  
"Ah don't know," she shrugged. "Ah guess Ah figured ya'd think we should've been...more restrained or somethin'. We just kinda...leaped. Didn't look. Didn't think 'bout what might happen. Or how it might affect everyone else."   
  
Xavier smiled and shook his head, rather amused by his southern X-Man. "That's the wonderful thing about love. You never really look first. You're not supposed to." He squeezed her fingers. "After everything you and he have been denied, I'd be a pretty horrible person to expect the two of you to turn down any chance to be together physically."   
  
Her tears returned, but she made no motion to brush them away. "Ah just wanted to have what everyone else gets, Professor," Rogue said in the quietest voice. "Ah got him for one night. And now...he's gone."   
  
The Professor said nothing. Now was not the time to tell Rogue that the man she loved was most assuredly still walking the planet. "And I am happy. For both of you. But there are very serious consequences now. And that's what we have to discuss."   
  
She sniffed and nodded. "Ah understand, Professor. Ah'll start packin' in the mornin'."  
  
"Are you planning on going somewhere?"  
  
Rogue's smooth forehead pulled into a frown. "Well...yeah. Ah can't really do anythin' for ya now. With the team, Ah mean. Ah'm useless for the next year or so. Ah don't expect ya to house and feed some pregnant mutant who can't even help out anymore."   
  
Xavier shook his head at her this time in disappointment. "After all this time, Rogue, you still can't trust that someone might want to help you just because, can you?" She lowered her eyes, ashamed. "Unless you truly want to, you will not move out of this house. You will stay here and let us help you through this. I won't lie to you. If you decide to keep this child, your life will never be the same. And with your unique circumstances, it's probably going to be the hardest thing you'll ever do."   
  
"Ya know then...that Ah thought 'bout..." Rogue stopped.   
  
"I know," he said as gently as possible a second later. "I felt your pain when you were standing in front of that clinic. Why didn't you go in and keep your appointment?"   
  
"Ah...Ah still wasn't sure it was true." The lie tasted bitter on her tongue. She sighed. "All right...Ah was worried the doctor would accidently touch me or somethin'."  
  
"Try again, Rogue."  
  
She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, but her mouth was too dry to moisten it. "Ah can't kill my baby, Professor." Rogue pulled her hand away from his and pressed it against her throat to hold back the sobs that threatened to well up. "Whether Ah'm ready for it or not, it's Remy's baby. It's all Ah got left of him."  
  
"I understand, Rogue." The Professor touched the top of her head. "Get some rest; we can speak more in the morning."  
  
"Professor! No else knows, do they?"  
  
"Only Hank and myself," he assured her. "No one else."  
  
****  
  
"Never trusted that Cajun traitor." Logan popped the top off of his third beer with one adamantium claw. After draining half of it in one gulp, he shook his head. "Only thing he *could* be trusted to do is knock up an innocent girl and leave her behind to deal with it."   
  
"Yeah." Bobby Drake turned his own beer around and around in his hands as he stared at it. "Although, if Rogue caught you calling her an 'innocent girl,' she knock the shit out of you."   
  
"And if I hear either of you say that Gambit was the one who did the leaving again, *I'll* knock the shit out of you both." Ororo Monroe entered the kitchen on silent feet, startling both men.   
  
"You said 'shit', Ro," Logan said, blinking.   
  
She gave him a look as she poured herself a glass of iced tea. "It is a word one hears on occasion in this house." She set the pitcher down. "*We* left *him* behind. Let's not forget that."   
  
"It's not like there wasn't a good reason for leaving him there." Bobby raised his beer to his lips, but didn't drink. "She did the right thing; he didn't deserve her forgiveness. Especially not now."  
  
Storm said nothing, only sipped her drink. "I assume you have both heard the latest rumor, then?"  
  
"I don't gossip," the man called Wolverine assured her in a low, dangerous voice. "He just blurted it out." He pointed at Bobby.   
  
The Iceman nearly choked on his drink. "Hey, I just said I heard something about it. And that I..." He blushed. "I sort of noticed Rogue staring at her stomach in the hallway mirror the other day."   
  
"Surely that adds up to the truth of the situation," the dark-skinned woman rolled her white eyes.   
  
"You gotta admit, Ro, she's been acting strangely for awhile now."  
  
She looked at Logan. "She dropped the man she loves into the freezing cold wasteland of Antarctica. And yes, she still loves him no matter what she says." Her gaze slipped to Bobby. "She always will. Of course she's acting strangely."   
  
"Listen, we all know they were together that night before the trial. And that everyone's powers were dampened." Bobby pushed his beer away. "It's not in Gambit's nature to turn down that kind of opportunity. So, it's entirely possible that she might be...you know."  
  
"If something did take place between them, do you honestly believe she played the naive victim in it?"   
  
After considering Storm's words, Bobby stood up and left the kitchen. Logan shook his head and drank the rest of his beer before picking up the younger man's. "Kind of harsh there, Ro. You know he's always had a thing for our southern belle."   
  
"Life can be harsh, Logan. I merely pointed out a truth to him." She sat in Bobby's abandoned seat. The kitchen was quiet for a moment. That was one of the nice things about talking to Wolverine. He didn't feel the need to fill in any silences with mindless chatter. "I believe it might not just be a rumor." She watched him take a swig of beer. "I think Rogue is pregnant. We share a bathroom. I hear her cry at night. And throw up in the morning."   
  
Wolverine crumpled the can in his hand. "If the swamp rat weren't already as good as dead, I'd kill him."   
  
Storm sighed in disgust. "Staunch the flow of testosterone for a second, Logan, and listen to me. If Rogue is really is pregnant, she's going to need all of our strength. She's going to need her friends, whether or not she thinks she does. What she doesn't need is everyone blaming Gambit for the choices they made together."  
  
"Yeah." He threw the can aside. "I guess."  
  
"I'm leaving for Seoul in the morning on a mission with Shadowkat. I'd like to leave knowing that you will look after her. When this all comes out into the open, there's going to be a lot of judgments. But none so bad as the ones she'll make against herself." Storm stood up. "Be her friend, Logan, like you always have been. She trusts you."   
  
He grimaced, but nodded. "I can do that, Ro."   
  
She kissed his cheek, letting her lips linger a second longer than necessary. "Thank you."  
  
"Hey, Ro," he called out before she left. "Be careful."   
  
"I will be."   
  
Her subtle scent lingered long after she was gone. Logan downed two more beers before he started up the stairs to check on Rogue.  
  
****  
  
She'd always known his hands would be hot against her flesh; even long before she got to feel them there, she could just tell. Everything else about him was hot, from the flames in his eyes to the spice he put into his cooking. What she hadn't known was how gentle his touch would be.   
  
Rogue tossed in her sleep. That one night had been everything she'd ever imagined it would be. As well as everything she'd ever feared. Because while getting to experience lovemaking with the man she loved was as near to perfection as she'd ever know, it had also forced her to open up parts of her mind and heart that had remained shut for so long. He'd brought her out of the shell into which her powers and her life experiences had forced her to retreat. Every kiss, every brush of his fingers against her skin...he'd made her feel so alive.   
  
They'd acknowledged it might well have been their only chance to be together, but they'd had no idea just how prophetic that admission would become in the light of day. But even if they had, Rogue knew she wouldn't have changed a thing. She'd needed him, needed to feel what his mouth felt like on her breasts, needed to understand the pleasure of his hard body between her thighs, needed to experience that intense moment between lovers when the pleasure blacks out the rest of the world, and nothing matters except the body entwined with your own.   
  
Had she considered that making love with Remy that night might leave behind more than just a lasting memory? No, she'd wanted him too badly. He'd started to say something, but she'd shut him up with a desperate kiss. Talking more often than not led to fighting. They were just too explosive together, like fire and gunpowder. And there had been explosions, so many that night. One right after another with only Remy's body to anchor her. There was no doubt that when they didn't talk, they were perfect together.   
  
It all ended before it even began. His betrayal, out in the open, had been too much for her to take. She'd still be able to taste him on her lips when she'd flown away from him without looking back. One night, one moment in time had been it for them. And now, she'd never be able to lay it to rest. Because there was a very permanent reminder growing within her body.   
  
A gloved hand wiping away her tears woke her up. "Remy." She sat up in the dark, truly convinced for a moment that she could smell his wonderful scent. Cigars and bourbon, a combination she never knew she'd miss.   
  
"It's just me, darlin'."   
  
She tried not to let her disappointment show, but she couldn't help it. The man sitting on the edge of her bed wasn't Gambit. "Logan? What're ya doin' here?"  
  
"I heard you crying all the way from the hallway." He raised an eyebrow at her. "You got something you want to talk about?"   
  
Rogue shook her head for a second, before changing her mind and nodding. "Ah hate cryin'," she said, the words broken up by a sob. "Ah just...can't seem to stop."   
  
"Ain't nothin' wrong with a good cry."  
  
Logan thought she almost smiled at that, but it was just her lip quivering. "Ah miss him so much." Her shoulders slumped over and she buried her face in her hands. "Ah shouldn't have left him, Logan. Ah shouldn't have left him behind like that! Ah love him! How could Ah...do that to someone Ah love?"  
  
"We all left him behind, darlin'."  
  
"But ya'll don't love him like Ah do. Ya'll aren't...gonna have his baby." She looked straight at him with watery green eyes. "Wolvie...what am Ah gonna do?"   
  
He put his arm around her carefully, grateful he'd not taken off his jacket before coming upstairs. "I don't know. But whatever you decide, you know you're safe here. Right?"   
  
"Ah know. Ah'm not goin' anywhere, trust me. There's nowhere else..." She trailed off. "Ah can't do this on my own. Even if Ah can do it at all." There was a pause. "Ah have to do it. Ah have to do it for him. 'Cause Ah don't wanna forget him." Rogue blinked away her tears. "Ah just hope the kid gets his powers and not mine," she half-joked.   
  
"I just hope it gets your looks and not the Cajun's. For the kid's sake."   
  
This managed to get a smile out of her. It faded after a second. "Ah'm not a very good person, Logan. What if Ah'm a worse mother?"   
  
"First of all, don't ever let me catch you sayin' you're not a good person again," he warned her with a dangerous finger in her face. "Second...you're gonna get a lot of help, darlin'. So, if the kid turns out fucked up like one of Jeannie and Cyke's...it'll be all our faults."   
  
She laughed for the first time in weeks. "Thank ya. I needed that."   
  
"Anytime. You got that? Anytime." He stood up, digging his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Rogue...are you gonna tell everyone soon? 'Cause this house might look big, but it keeps no secrets."   
  
"Can't Ah just let 'em all figure it out when Ah start inflatin' like a beach ball at a picnic?"   
  
"Up to you."  
  
She sighed and lay back against her pillow. "Ah'll tell the team first. Tomorrow. 'Fore the whole house starts talkin' 'bout me and Gambit."  
  
He gritted his teeth under the weight of his own guilt. "Everyone likes to talk, darlin'. You just don't worry about it. Get back to sleep; you're sleepin' for two now."   
  
"Two," she said after he closed the door behind himself. She covered her belly with her hands. "We're a 'two' now, baby. Ah won't be a 'one' again." Rogue closed her eyes. "But...Ah'm sorry. We won't ever be a 'three'."   
  
****  
  
The heat in the French Quarter was stifling, but the man sitting on one balcony overlooking Bourbon Street was entirely accustomed to the cloying humidity. He sat smoking a cigar with his feet propped up on the swirls and delicate patterns of the wrought iron railing. His white shirt was unbuttoned all the way down to his waist, but still tucked into his dark blue jeans; a wrinkled brown trench coat was draped over the chair next to his.   
  
Down on the street, a drunken group of tourists sang off-key as they moved from one bar to another. They temporarily drowned out the sound of the saxophone player on the corner belting out old blues songs for a few quarters, but when they had passed, he could hear the tune again. It suited his mood. Haunted and lonely. It spoke to him about everything he'd lost. Everything that had been snatched away from him.   
  
He flicked ash off to his side and reached for the half-empty bottle of whiskey. Not as good as bourbon, but it did the job. Alcohol made it possible to get through the nights when she came to him in his dreams, waking him up and making him sit on this damn balcony, watching the rest of the city get on with their lives. Drinking until he couldn't remember what her skin tasted like or what it felt like to be buried within her heat.   
  
The bottle felt like lead in his hands. He blinked several times as he stared at it. What was he doing? She'd pound him senseless if she saw him like this. At least, she would if she cared anymore. But there was little chance of that. Caring would have kept her from flying away. Caring would have spared him a month in the bitter cold of the south pole.   
  
"Mon Dieu." He extinguished his cigar in the potted plant by his foot. "It time for Gambit to be workin' again."   
  
He was dressed within five minutes and sober by the time he reached the underground stronghold of the Thieves Guild. The assignment he was given seemed simple enough. And he'd be able to travel to Seoul. Lovely country, South Korea. He'd leave in the morning and get straight to it. It would take his mind off of her, and barring any complications, it would be highly profitable.   
  
The chapter of his life in which she and the X-Men existed was closed, he told himself. And nothing would ever re-open it.  
  
****  
  
To Be Continued 


	2. Only in my dreams

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me, but to Marvel Comics and other important people with lawyers.  
  
Author's Notes: Thank you for all the feedback; I'm glad I managed to get the characters down pretty well. I will say that I'm not really following with who was or wasn't in the mansion during this period in the comics. I'm putting who I want in my story; everyone's lived at Xavier's at some point, anyway, so what does it matter? Thanks again, and I hope you keep enjoying.  
  
****  
  
Unexpected  
  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
The days boiled down to an endless string of minutes through which she had to force herself to live. Rogue moved about the mansion like a cliched ghost, barely reacting when her name was called and never instigating a conversation. It was as if the one conversation she'd had with the X-Men had been too much for her to take. And it hadn't been easy sitting in the war room the day after the news became official, surrounded by her friends and companions, and saying the words out loud for the first time.   
  
"Ah'm pregnant," she'd told them in as clear and calm a voice as possible. "Ah'm keepin' the baby...to have somethin' of Gambit."  
  
Scott Summers looked like he could have been knocked over with a slight breeze, and in truth, she would have liked to do it herself for the sheer shock on his face. Jean Grey's eyes were nothing but sympathetic; Rogue ignored the other woman's voice in her head telling her everything would be all right. Everything wasn't going to be all right...without him.   
  
Bobby's face was red when she made her announcement, and she felt a twinge of guilt when she met his eyes. He looked away quickly. She'd never meant to lead him on, but the road trip they'd embarked on once upon a time had been far more about getting away from Remy than going anywhere with him.   
  
Milder surprise graced the other faces gathered for the meeting. Storm and Kitty Pryde weren't even there, having left on some mysterious mission. The Professor and Hank each gave her a warm smile.   
  
But it was Wolverine who was her pillar of strength. He folded his thick arms over his chest and with one look around the table promised much pain if anyone even thought about speaking out in the negative.   
  
Still, no one said anything.  
  
She'd gotten up from the table on shaky legs. "That's all Ah wanted to say." By the time she'd run back to her room, the need to throw up the little breakfast she'd managed to get down had caught up with her.   
  
Since then, the morning sickness had fluctuated, ranging from mild discomfort to nausea so intense that she spent entire mornings hanging over the toilet. The baby wasn't going to be easy on her system, having two strong mutant parents and a hell of a genetic makeup. But Hank seemed to think she could do it.   
  
Every couple of days, Rogue dragged herself to the lab for a battery of tests and examinations. That particular day, she lay on the exam table staring at the ceiling as the minutes ticked by, slower and slower. She could sense Hank moving around; occasionally he'd make a soft 'hmph' noise of intellectual surprise. After the third time, she closed her eyes. "Somethin' the matter?"  
  
"No, no, not at all." His head appeared over her, massive and blue and friendly. "As a matter of fact, I have some good news."  
  
"Oh. Good news is good." She shielded her eyes from the overhead lighting with the back of her hand. "Shoot, sugah."   
  
Hank glanced at his clipboard. "The baby is developing exactly according to schedule, as I'm sure you've noticed.  
  
"My jeans don't fit no more."  
  
"Well, you're coming up on four months." He paused. "Within the next few weeks, a sonogram might reveal the sex of the fetus. Is that something you'd be interested in knowing, Rogue?"  
  
She lowered her hand back to the table. "Ah...Ah hadn't thought 'bout it." Rogue tipped her head back on the headrest to blink back her tears. "Ah think Ah'd rather...wait to know. Yeah." She tried to nod. "Ah'll wait."   
  
"All right." Hank patted her hand with his rubber-gloved paw. "There's plenty of time, after all."   
  
"A whole 'nother five months," she echoed flatly.   
  
"The time will fly, Rogue." He paused for a second. "I did some additional tests today. I've been concerned about your powers in relation to the baby."  
  
Rogue raised herself up on her elbows. "What do ya mean by that? Concerned how?"  
  
"You draw power from other people. It's only natural to wonder if having a living creature within you...if your body wouldn't know the difference."   
  
Her eyes grew wide. "Oh god...Ah didn't even think 'bout anythin' like that!"  
  
"And fortunately, you don't have to," he assured her, quickly. "The tests reveal that rather than your body drawing from the baby, the baby is doing exactly what it should do, namely draw its food and energy from you. It seems that biology will always prevail, even over genetics." The doctor smiled in self-satisfication. "Oh..." He caught her lingering look of panic. "Rogue, don't be concerned. The baby is just fine, I promise. Healthy and thriving. More than likely, you'll begin to feel it moving soon."  
  
Rogue stared into space, seeing nothing as she spoke. "It just...it just hit me, Hank. How much Ah really want this baby. Thinkin' Ah might be harmin' it..." She shook her head. "If there's ever any sign that Ah might be...Ah don't even know what Ah'd do."   
  
"With these test results, there is no sense worrying about that at the present time. We will take precautions and monitor you continously. And I'm certain that in five months time, we'll all get to wake up in the middle of the night to the sounds of a baby screaming."   
  
But the thought had been planted in the back of her mind, and it was going to take a lot more than gentle assurances to overcome it. Rogue left the lab in a stupor, her hands pressed against the swelling in her stomach that, unless she wore loose clothes, was becoming more noticeable every day. On her way to her room, she quite literally ran into Jubilee.   
  
"Oh, Rogue!" The girl looked panicked as she glanced down at the older woman's belly. "I'm so sorry! I wasn't even looking where I was going. Are you all right?!"   
  
She tried to smile. "Ah'm fine, sugah. And not made outta glass, last time Ah checked."   
  
The youngest X-Man looked sheepish and she pulled at one over-sized earring. "I haven't gotten a chance to tell you, but I'm really happy for you, Rogue. I think you're gonna be a great mom."   
  
A little part of her heart warmed at this. "Thanks, honey. Ah needed to hear that."   
  
"Can I do anything for you?" Jubilee asked. *Besides bringing Gambit home?* she added to herself. "Can I get you something to eat? Pickles and ice cream?"   
  
"Haven't quite gotten there yet," Rogue replied. "But Ah'll let you know when Ah start craving for stuff like that."   
  
"Good." The dark-haired girl nodded firmly. "I wanna help."   
  
Because neither of them had on long sleeves, Rogue couldn't hug Jubilee like she wanted to in that instant. She could only cup the girl's cheek with her gloved hand. "Ya already have, sugah."   
  
They parted ways at the stairs. Rogue retreated to her room, her sanctuary from the sympathetic looks and not-so-subtle whispers that greeted her whenever she roamed about the mansion. Jubilee headed for the Danger Room for her daily workout with Wolverine, but as she passed by the War Room, she started picking up on a sense of commotion from within. The door was open, but she hung off to one side, listening to see if she could find out what was going on without making her presence known.   
  
Cyclops, Jean, and the Professor were the only ones in the room, but she could also hear Storm's voice, most likely over the communication system, as she and Kitty still hadn't returned from their mission.   
  
"What should I do, Professor?" Storm asked, static crackling her words.   
  
She heard Xavier sigh, but it wasn't in disappointment or distress. It was more a sigh of relief than anything else. It puzzled her. "Anyway that you can, Storm, convince him to come back with you. He needs to be back here, and not only as a member of the team."   
  
"He's still a member of the team?" Cyclops snorted.   
  
"Scott," the Professor said, his voice warning. "Are you all right with that, Storm?"   
  
"Of course," she replied a second later. "And yes, Scott. He is still part of the team. However it turns out, Professor, we shall return tomorrow. Storm out."   
  
The staticky sound disappeared and there was silence in the room for a second. Jubilee held her breath; she had a strong suspicion about who the subject of the discussion was, but she waited to have it confirmed.   
  
Finally, Jean spoke. "We knew he was still alive. It shouldn't come as this much of a shock."   
  
"It's not, Jean," Xavier said. "It's only the circumstances that are worrying me. Rogue is in a very fragile place right now. I'm not entirely sure how Gambit's return will affect her."   
  
Jubilee slapped her hand against her mouth to keep from letting out a happy little cry. Gambit was alive!! And he was coming home!   
  
"She still carries so much guilt and self-hate," Jean mused. "But she also wants this; she wants him to return to her. I don't even have to read her thoughts to see that. Her shock will be great, yes. But shock passes. Losing Gambit forever never would." There was a pause. "Are you going to tell her?"   
  
Cyclops interjected, "That's probably not a good idea. If he doesn't come back with Storm, it'll just get her hopes up for no reason."   
  
"I agree with Scott," the Professor said. "Sparing Rogue any unnecessary pain is very important. When they arrive tomorrow, we'll take it from there. Still…" Another short silence had Jubilee holding her breath. "She should be the first to know. This isn't something for the rumor mill."   
  
As quietly as she could manage, Jubilee inched away from the door, doubling back to elevator that would take her up to the residence level of the mansion. Training was forgotten as she did a happy little dance inside the brightly lit elevator. Finally, the huge gaping hole in her family was going to be filled in. Life could start getting back to normal!   
  
****   
  
Shooting across the sky just out of radar range of any military or civilian facility, not to mention out of sight thanks to Shi'ar technology, the Blackbird was carrying him home. Remy LeBeau, Gambit, the Cajun traitor…whatever anyone wanted to call him, he was going home to face the people who'd left him behind. But the only one who mattered was Rogue.   
  
He stared out the window at the clouds all around them. Rogue was the card Storm had played to get him on the jet. "We both know the real reason you resist returning," she'd told him in Seoul after their adventure with Black Tom Cassidy, Juggernaut and the damn gem he'd been sent to steal. "Rogue," she'd continued, answering for him. "But issues between people must be solved."   
  
Remy shook his head, cinnamon-colored hair brushing over the high collar of his brown coat. There were way too many "issues" between him and Rogue to even find a jumping off point to start reconciliations. But still, here he was, sitting in the jet, heading back to the mansion, thinking about how god damn good she'd look to his tired eyes.   
  
He sensed someone move into the seat next to him and he turned his head to see who it was. Storm's unique eyes looked back at him. "How are you doing?" she asked.   
  
"Still alive, chere," he replied. "Just be t'inkin'."   
  
"I'm glad you agreed to come back," Storm went on a few seconds later. "Gambit…I know that what we did was unforgivable, but just so you know…something has been missing from the team ever since."   
  
"It be de Caj'n flare you missin'. Like gumbo wit'out de filé."   
  
"It's more than just that. Although, yes…" She smiled. "We all miss your cooking. But it's more like we lost some of our strength. We cut off our own arm, Gambit. And I'm sorry for it. Not to mention for whatever you've gone through to be here right now."   
  
He accepted the apologies with a slight inclination of his head. "Don't worry 'bout it none, chere. I keep no hard feelin's in my heart."   
  
It was the right thing to say to shrug off the subject. She smiled and some of the little worry lines on her lovely face cleared up. "We should be arriving very shortly. Just in time for…"   
  
Remy cut her off. "Tell me 'bout Rogue."   
  
Did her eyes get just a bit wider? He watched her carefully, searching her expression for hidden meanings. If something wasn't right with Rogue, he'd be able to tell, just by her reluctance to say anything.   
  
"She's fine," Storm said, a shade too quickly. His eyes narrowed when she stood up. "Listen. When we arrive…well, let's just say that your arrival will be, for the most part, unexpected. The Professor will meet us on the landing pad, but after that…"   
  
He interrupted her again. "You be a terrible liar, chere. If somethin' wrong with Rogue…" His mint julep voice shook slightly. "You tell me now."   
  
"Nothing's wrong with her, Remy." Storm bit the inside of her cheek as she put her hand on his broad shoulder. "Nothing your return won't mend, at least." She gave him a reassuring pat. "Buckle up; it won't be long now."   
  
Remy did as she asked, securing the belt around his waist and chest, but his thoughts wandered back to Rogue. Was she really all right? Was she really missing him? Did she lie awake at night, aching like he did? It was too much to hope that she might feel even half of the loss that had paralyzed him for the past four months.   
  
Seeing her again…the thought made his heart beat faster for more than just one reason. It was going to be so hard; he just knew he'd been torn between pulling her into his arms and kissing the life out of himself…or walking away from her without a word. The silent treatment couldn't come anywhere close to the pain of freezing cold temperatures and being abandoned, but maybe if she felt a little bit of what she'd dealt him, it might soothe some of his own lingering demons.   
  
That thought, however justified, passed. He could never wish bad things for the woman he loved, no matter what she might have done to deserve them, much less enact them himself. Truthfully, he couldn't blame her for what she'd done in Antarctica. Her head had been so full of him from Magneto's forced kiss; she'd only done what at the very core of his heart he wanted to happen. His own guilt had coaxed out her contempt and inability to forgive.   
  
Remy pulled out his deck of playing cards and idly shuffled them to give his hands something to do. What he wanted now was for everything that had happened in Antarctica to be forgotten, with the exception of the night before the trial. That memory was for them alone. Everything else…it was better left in the snow.   
  
But letting go of the past…it wasn't something he and Rogue were any good at.   
  
The change in cabin pressure told him that they had begun their descent. He replaced his cards and held onto the arms of his seat. Within minutes, he'd be within reach of her again. Remy took a deep breath, wishing he could have a shot of something double-malted and aged.   
  
"Merde," he said out loud. Even one of Logan's horrible beers would have been welcome. Flying sober into an uncomfortable situation was never his specialty.   
  
****   
  
She dreamt of him that night, blissfully unaware that on the far end of the property, he dreamed of her in the boathouse where he'd asked permission to stay. Her dreams were always laced around his hands more than any other part of his body. She'd enjoyed all of him. His broad, muscular chest with its trail of dark hair leading to his stomach and beyond, his corded arms that rippled with every delicious thrust, his powerful thighs around which she'd somehow managed to wrap her own legs, his mouth that had molded so perfectly to hers without fear or hesitancy. But she kept coming back to his hands as they ran up and down her skin. It was what she dreamt about. It was what she needed…the touch she'd always been forbidden. In her sleep, she drew her knees up to her chest as much as she could with the changing shape of her body and wept. She'd never get to feel that again.   
  
But she could live without his touch; she had years of practice. What she couldn't live without was his jokes, his flirting, his gumbo, his damn smoking habit, his accent, his winks, his love. Him. She couldn't live without him.   
  
"Chere," his phantom whispered to her, hidden in the mists of her subconscious. "I be wit' you, chere. Always. Ain't never gonna be rid o' me…'cause I always be here."   
  
"Remy," she murmured, squeezing her already-closed eyes even tighter shut, forcing out a few drops of salty sorrow. She clung to her extra pillow as if it was him. "Remy…Ah need ya. Remy…"   
  
"Should we tell her now, Professor?" The woman standing at the doorway into Rogue's darkened room spoke softly as not to wake the sleeping woman inside.   
  
Xavier slowly shook his head. "Do you know what, Storm? I have no idea if we should or not."   
  
"She's in pain." Storm fought back the urge to go to her friend when her soft cries turned into wrenching sobs. She still didn't wake; whatever dream she was trapped in, it had her fully in its grasp. "This could ease it."   
  
"Or it could make things worse." He looked up at her. "He's settled in the boathouse?"   
  
The white-haired woman nodded curtly. "I can't blame him for not wishing to take up residence in the mansion immediately. Perhaps with time, though."   
  
"Perhaps." Xavier looked back at Rogue. After a long moment of consideration, he took a breath. "Let's wake her. It's the best thing…for both of them."   
  
****   
  
Lake water gently slapping against the side of the boathouse woke him. He lay in the mess of sheets and blankets listening to it, hoping it would lure him back to sleep. Because in his dreams, he hadn't been in bed alone; she'd been with him, her lithe body curled around his without material barriers. And he could feel her heart beating against his chest, as though she really was there.   
  
The unmistakable sound of a board creaking under someone's weight had him sitting up quicker than summer lightning. He fumbled for his playing cards and grabbed one, preparing to charge it if necessary.   
  
"Who 'dere?" he called out. "I got de Ace o' Spades, and I ain't 'fraid to use it."   
  
A shape emerged from the shadows. It was the feet he noticed first, bare and perfectly formed, attached to slender ankles and shapely legs that went all the way up. She wore nothing but an oversized, long-sleeved T-shirt, one he recognized as his own, left behind when they'd all departed for Antarctica. It barely skimmed her thighs, but hid the curves of her body that he knew so well. Her arms were clutched across her stomach; she trembled with each step. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, a tangled mass of brown and white curls that reached all the way down to her sleeves.   
  
Her face, her beautiful, unforgettable face was fixed in an indescribable expression. Equal parts shock, wonder, horror and joy flitted across her button nose, full lips and bottomless emerald eyes.   
  
"Remy," she whispered, her accent warming his stomach more than Southern Comfort.   
  
The card was still between his fingers; he flicked it away as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The few feet of watery reflections in the space between them stretched like miles. She looked so delicate, far more fragile than he'd ever seen her before. A lump caught in the back of his throat and refused to go down, no matter how many times he swallowed.   
  
She took another step towards him, stumbling slightly. He moved to catch her, but before he could, she had dropped to her knees in front of him. Her tears flowed like a waterfall, cascading over her smooth cheeks. "Remy," she repeated. "Yer alive…"   
  
He couldn't stop himself from crushing his arms around her. She let herself be hauled against his chest; her bare hands clutched his shirt. Remy buried his face in her hair and inhaled the intoxicating scent of magnolias.   
  
"Ma chere," he managed to get out around his own tears. "I am now."   
  
****  
  
To Be Continued 


	3. My baby's got a secret

Disclaimer: Characters never have, never will belong to me, no matter how many of these little tales I spin for them.   
  
Author's Notes: Thank you very, very much for all the wonderful feeback. I hope I keep giving you a good story to read. It is my singular goal in life;) I'm just glad to see so many shippers out there. Sniff...warms my heart. Well, enjoy the chapter. It took me a whole day to write it and pretend like I was actually working.  
  
****  
  
Unexpected  
  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
"I wish we never,  
  
I wish we never,  
  
I wish never met.  
  
'Cause now I've got my heart set on you.  
  
I'm set on you."  
  
-Kathleen Wilhoite  
  
****  
  
Only minutes later, she fell asleep against his chest, wrapped up in his arms, exactly where she belonged. Remy looked down at her after he eased them both onto the bed. Her lashes rested on dark circles just under her closed eyes; she hadn't been sleeping well for awhile, he guessed. He pressed a kiss into her hair.   
  
"W'at keep you up at nigh', chere?" he whispered. "'Dis Caj'n? Or somet'in else?"  
  
She stirred slightly, readjusting her cheek against the worn cotton of his shirt. A soft breath escaped her lips. The all-encompassing desire to kiss her was going to be the death of him. He'd thought about this very moment so many times, he'd wanted her back in his arms, he'd even made promises to God about the ways he would reform if only he made it through the ice and wind and got her back.   
  
But now that she was there and his wish had come true, he was finding that it was torture beyond belief, even worse than the years they'd spent before Antarctica. Because now he knew that her mouth tasted like fresh raspberries and her skin felt like the smoothest velvet. He knew that she made love with the same spit and fire that she did everything else, and that when she came, she cried out his name like no one ever had, in a way that was possessive and at the same time, submissive.  
  
He'd gotten a taste for her, and as with so many other things he'd tried in his life, he found himself addicted. Holding her in the dark, in his bed, after months of separation, and not being able to do anything…it was the worst sort of withdrawal.  
  
Remy released a painful, pent-up sigh. She might be sleeping like an angel, but he'd never get a wink for himself if she stayed the night like this. He made his decision quickly. With one of the blankets, he carefully wrapped her up, covering all of the exposed flesh he would have liked to kiss up and down.   
  
It only took him a few minutes to carry her across the sprawling grounds of Xavier's estate. The mansion was dark and silent, but still as elegant and stately as he remembered. The code for the alarm system hadn't been changed; he entered the massive house on a master thieves silent feet. Memory took him straight to Rogue's room without difficulty.   
  
He laid her down on her bed as though he was setting down an armful of Venetian glass vases. Unable to tear himself away, Remy stared at her for a long minute. She'd left her window slightly ajar; the breeze filtering inside made the curled tendrils of her hair dance over her cheeks and lips. He reached out to brush them off her face, but at the last second, remembered that he wasn't wearing gloves. His hand froze less than an inch away from her skin.   
  
"So, I guess we've answered the age old question." The deep, scratchy and all too familiar voice that broke the deafening silence caught Remy by surprise, but he managed to keep from turning his head to acknowledge the speaker. "Can a Cajun find his way out of Antarctica?"   
  
"Oh, we can, mon ami. We got hot cafe au lait flowin' in de veins." Remy conceded enough to glance over his shoulder. Wolverine stood in Rogue's doorway, an unlit cigar in his hand. "I take it dere be no 'welcome back' comin' my way?"   
  
Logan took a few steps into the room. "I'd throw your ass out of here, bub, if it wouldn't wake up the whole house."   
  
"I expect no less," Remy replied, wryly. "But save de strength you got. Gambit ain't back to cause no trouble."   
  
"Then what are you doing in here?"   
  
He looked back down at Rogue as she peacefully slept through the entire exchange. "I come back...to make t'ings better."   
  
The shorter man snorted softly and indicated the hand that had come too close to touching her cheek. "You plan to do that by shockin' her awake?"   
  
"She not de only fence t'be mended. But..." Remy licked the corner of his lip. "She be de most important."   
  
"You don't deserve her."   
  
"You t'ink Gambit don't know dat?" His voice raised slightly, but lowered quickly when Rogue turned onto her side, a frown flickering across her face. "I may not deserve her, mon ami, but she don't deserve t'inkin' she be de death o' me, oui?"   
  
Logan shook his head. "It takes some balls of steel to come waltzin' back in here after everythin' that's happened."   
  
"Gambit never waltz," he retorted, his red on black eyes flashing. "Gambit do de slide."   
  
"Yeah, maybe the electric one."   
  
"W'atever get me here."   
  
There was a moment's pause before the older man spoke again. "She's missed you." He looked down at his cigar. "I was just about thinkin' I'd have to take a trip to the damn continent to haul your sorry carcass back for her."   
  
"De sentiment be most appreciated."   
  
"Yeah, well. You know me; I'm a sentimental guy." Logan pointed at him. "You've got five minutes. When I walk back by, I don't want to see you in here botherin' her, got it? She needs her sleep."   
  
"She do seem tired," he frowned. "Dere ain't not'in' wrong with de femme, is dere?"   
  
Wolverine hesitated. "Five minutes, Gumbo. And if you got questions, you ask her some other time than when she should be sleepin'." He backed up and out the door. As an afterthought, he stuck his head back into the door's frame. "Oh, and welcome back, bub."   
  
Remy smiled in spite of himself. It wasn't a full-on wagon, but at least it was a welcome. His gaze returned to the woman in the bed. "Sleep, amour. I still be 'round in de mornin'."   
  
****   
  
The sun was stretching across the afternoon sky by the time Rogue finally awoke. Her mind was clear and she felt refreshed for the first time in weeks. When she glanced at the clock on her nightstand, she realized why. She'd been asleep for almost fourteen hours. The baby really was taking a lot out of her; she loved her sleep, but she was usually up with the rest of the household.   
  
The room was hot, even with the window open as she preferred it. Rogue pushed at the blanket covering her from neck to toes, trying to escape the heat. Suddenly, she frowned. When she'd fallen asleep the night before, she hadn't had a blanket.   
  
His scent on the woven cotton brought it all back to her. She lifted the blanket's edge up to cover her nose and mouth and she could remember the Professor gently waking her from a horrible nightmare and telling her that there was someone she needed to see in the boathouse. She'd walked down to the water, severely missing the ease of flying. And in the boathouse...*he'd* been in the boathouse.   
  
Her eyes closed. Remy was back. She'd fallen into his arms and he'd held her like a starving man, kissing her hair. He'd been so strong and warm and so wonderful that...she'd fallen asleep. She shook her head at herself. But what had happened after that? How had she gotten back up here?   
  
Or had it all just been a dream? She already thought she saw him every time she spotted a tall, dark haired man on the street; why shouldn't she smell him on every blanket, too?   
  
She had to find out for sure. Jumping out of bed with a little bit of her old energy, Rogue rummaged through her closet until she found a pair of baggy overalls, pretty much the only thing besides sweatpants that fit anymore. She put it on over Remy's shirt, pulled on a long pair of gloves, dragged her brush through her hair a few times, and dashed down the stairs.   
  
Her stomach reminded her that it was empty, but at least it wasn't nauseous. She ignored it, although she knew she'd eventually have to eat, and started looking for him. Several of the students greeted her shyly; she almost had to physically remove Kitty Pryde from her path when the woman started up with a barrage of "How are you doing?" and "Is there anything I can do for you?" The friendship was appreciated, but she was in no mood to chit-chat.   
  
Rogue had just entered the massive mahogany and Tiffany-stained glass dining room when she heard his voice. He was speaking French; she could barely understand the words, although she spoke some herself. And then he laughed, that smooth chuckle that vibrated in his throat and turned her knees into Jello. She headed towards it, more hesitant now. If she was just going insane and he wasn't there, she wanted to hold onto the hallucination for as long as possible.  
  
She rounded the corner and there he was. Sitting in an overstuffed armchair in the comfortable parlor-turned-study lounge by the students, the love of her life had a French book open on his lap and five young mutants, including Jubilee, around his feet on the Oriental carpet. He directed a question to one of them and waited patiently as the boy struggled through a reply, getting caught up in his conjugation.   
  
Rogue cleared her throat. "Je prendrais trois pommes," she answered for the student.   
  
Remy turned his head, fixating his sinful eyes onto her. A moment passed between them. Finally, his mouth turned up into a smile. "Oui. Trés bien fait, chere."   
  
Jubilee looked back and forth between them as they stared at each other. Finally, she tilted her head to one side and said to Rogue, "Look who found his way home!"  
  
"So Ah see, sugah."   
  
The young girl abruptly leaped to her feet. "Come on," she said to the other students. "We're gonna be late for class."   
  
"Bon chance, mes petits amis," Remy called out, wishing them luck as they reluctantly dragged themselves off to their French test. He stood slowly, like he had all the time in the world. He had on his training outfit of body-fitting black rubber with his ubiquitous brown trench coat, and she suddenly regretted putting on her dowdy overalls. Why did he always have to look so effortlessly sexy? "You be a sigh' for dese sore eyes," he told her, as if he could read her thoughts.  
  
Rogue swallowed thickly. "It wasn't a dream, then. And Ah'm not goin' crazy. Ah didn' kill ya."  
  
"Non, chere." He took a step towards her, and tried not to feel the stab of hurt when she took a step back. "But de day's not over yet."  
  
"Ah'm just…Ah don't know what Ah am." She ran her hands through her hair and frowned. "How did Ah get back to my room last night? Ah remember fallin' asleep…on ya."   
  
He loved seeing her flush with embarrassment; the color on her cheeks was precious. "I put you t'bed." There was a pause before he chuckled. "And either Gambit be getting' weak, or you be puttin' on weigh', chere."   
  
Frozen to the spot, she blinked several times. But after only a second, her temper overthrew her panic. "Well, Ah'm sad to see that ya don't change, swamp rat! Ya always know just how to get under my skin!!"  
  
Remy held up his hands. "W'at I say now?" She folded her arms tightly across her chest and refused to answer. "Fine, chere, fine. You don' change, neither. You still take everyt'in dis Caj'n say too serious-like."   
  
Rogue let her arms drop back to her sides. It wasn't fair to get mad at him when he had no idea what he'd said to prompt her anger. "Ah don' want ya thinkin' Ah'm all sensitive. Ah forgive ya, Remy."  
  
"Oh, de femme forgive Gambit! Merci beaucoup, mademoiselle." He bowed with angry exaggeration. "Maybe when Gambit forgive de femme, dere can be a real talk between dem."  
  
She closed her eyes, guilt flooding over her in great waves. "Ah didn't mean that the way it sounded. It's just…ya have no idea…"  
  
The scowl fell off his rugged features. "No idea 'bout w'at, chere?"  
  
"Nothin'," she whispered a second later. "Just…ye've been gone. Lots o' stuff's been happenin'."  
  
"Den… fill me in." He perched himself on the chair's huge, soft arm. "I don' like bein' in de dark, ma belle."  
  
The words stuck in her mouth. She just couldn't get them to come out, as much as she wanted to tell him. They'd never spoken about children, silently agreeing not to torture themselves planning a future that never seemed possible, but Remy really was wonderful with them. The news that he was going to be a father would shock the hell out of him, but if she knew him at all, she knew that he'd eventually love the idea. He might not know it himself, but there was so much love in his heart, just waiting to be given.   
  
Hot tears sprung to her eyes. She couldn't do it. "It's nothin', sugah," she repeated. Hesitating for a second, she stepped towards him. Just when she was about to speak again, to tell him just how much she missed him, her stomach growled, rupturing the silence.   
  
The blush returned to her cheeks and he forgot what it was he was trying to get out of her. Smiling, he stood up. "It be well after lunch, chere, but I t'ink I can fix you up a plate o' somet'in' if you like."  
  
She awkwardly folded her arms over her stomach, feeling the roundness there; her overalls were doing their job. He hadn't seemed to notice the change. "Nothin' too spicy," she warned him.   
  
"Only two shakes o' de Tabasco, den, not four, est ce bien?"   
  
Her stomach lurched at the thought of a single shake of the red bottle of death. "Um…how 'bout some rice puddin', sugah?"  
  
"I cook w'atever you want, ma chere." Without giving her a chance to back away, Remy crossed the distance between them and took her gloved hands in his. He brought them up to his lips and planted a kiss on each palm. She could feel the heat of his mouth through the protective material, eliciting a different sort of heat at the center of her body. When she could think again, she yanked her hands out of his grasp. He sighed. "I come back t'make t'in's right between us. Dey never gonna be if we forget dat we ain' strangers to each other no more, chere." He touched his temple. "I remember up here. We been close as two people can get. I don' want t'act like dat never happened."   
  
"Neither do Ah," she added in as soft a voice as he'd ever heard. "Ah just…ain't sure where we are now. Ah can't go back to just datin' and actin' like it don't matter that we can't do everythin' we wanna do. 'Cause it does, Remy. It does matter. Ah…want ya."   
  
"Why do I get de feelin' dat be de first truth you be telling me?"   
  
Rogue lifted one shoulder. "Maybe Ah'm just not ready to say whatever Ah need to."   
  
"W'en you be ready, ma chere, I be here." He reached for her hand. "'Til den, you at least eat somet'in', oui?"  
  
"Ah thought ya said I was lookin' fat." Her words were light, but her voice shook as she spoke them.   
  
"Since w'en you start listenin' to dis Caj'n?"   
  
****  
  
Scott wandered into the kitchen on a quest for a cold drink. Training in the Danger Room with Logan was never easy, although he'd rather die before admitting weakness in front of the older man. Today, Logan had been particularly focused on his goal, namely taking his opponent down in the shortest time possible. Scott suspected he might be bruised in the morning, and there was definitely a scratch on his leg from one of Wolverine's claws that Jean might have to take a look at later. But he did have the satisfaction of knowing that, at least for the few minutes it took his body to regenerate itself, Logan had been sporting some nice burns on his forearms.   
  
He smelled the heavy scent of boiling oil long before he entered the room; for a second he was worried that some of the students might have gotten it into their heads to make french fries. He even had a speech prepared about asking the adults for help with heavy kitchen adventures, but when he caught sight of Gambit at the stove and Rogue sitting on the counter watching him poke at something in a cast iron skillet with a pair of tongs, the lecture was forgotten.   
  
They didn't notice him right away, so he took a second to watch them. They weren't yelling at each other and there was nothing broken on the floor, so he guessed their reunion and the disclosure of Rogue's pregnancy had gone over fairly well, and that honestly made him happy. Having had experienced his own share of setbacks and hurdles in his relationship with Jean, he knew that the bad times would come, but the important thing was to make the most of the happy ones while they were there. And he wished nothing but happy times for the couple in the kitchen, especially now that they were going to bring a life into the world together.  
  
Finally, Rogue looked up and noticed him. They'd never been anything resembling close, but she smiled like he hadn't seen her do in months. "Scott…ya hungry for some beignets? Remy's makin' enough to feed the whole of Louisiana."  
  
"Dey taste better in big batches, chere," the cook assured her, lifting one puffy, square donut out of the oil with his tongs.   
  
Scott shook his head. "Thanks, but I'm just here for water." He went to the fridge and reached inside for a cold bottle. "You must be feeling better today, Rogue."  
  
She gritted her teeth slightly. "Yeah, sugah. Ah'm right as rain."  
  
"Have you talked to Hank about keeping up with your training? Lightly, of course. I mean, you don't want to fall out of shape while you're…"   
  
"Are ya sure ya don't want any o' these, Scott?" Rogue cut him off without mercy. **Maybe if I shove enough in yer mouth, ya won't talk no more,** she added to herself.   
  
Remy handed her a plate full of beignets so she could complete her chore, which was to liberally douse them in powdered sugar. "Why you worryin' 'bout her shape, Cyke?"   
  
The leader of the X-Men exchanged a long, silent look with Rogue. Her eyes pleaded with him, and although it took him a second to recognize the message, he eventually caught on. "No reason," he replied. "Except that she took a break from duty while you were gone. She's a valuable member of the team; it's my job to worry about the shape of the team." He looked at Remy. "I think I will have one, if you don't mind."   
  
The Cajun man gestured to the plate. "Wait for de sugar, mon ami. Dey ain' de same wi'tout it."   
  
"I understand." He nodded his head when Rogue smiled at him and sprinkled one pastry with white power. Scott picked it up and took a bite. "Welcome back, Gambit," he said, after swallowing and wiping sugar off his lips. "Rogue…swing by the War Room later. We need to talk."   
  
After he was gone, Remy started rolling out what remained of the dough to start another batch. "You on break from de team, chere?"   
  
She chewed the inside of her cheek and idly dumped sugar over the cooked beignets. "Ah…haven't been feelin' like myself lately."   
  
He set down his rolling pin, untied the apron that looked so adorably ridiculous over his rubber training suit and folded his arms seriously. "Rogue," he began. She winced; it was never a good sign when he actually called her by her name. "Tell me de truth. You be sick?" There was worry stamped all over his stern expression. "Is it bad, ma chere?"  
  
Rogue put one sugar-dusted finger into her mouth; the sweetness stung. "Ah'm not sick," she told him honestly. He opened his mouth to go on, but she held up her hand. "Please. Don't push me, Remy. Ah got some stuff I gotta sort out in my head. Okay?"   
  
Even if it wasn't, he had no chance to voice any protest. A throng of teenagers descended onto the kitchen, ravenous and provoked by the smell of something frying. Within seconds, the beignets were gone and the herd moved on, sugar-smeared and yelling the occasional, "thanks, Gambit" over their shoulders.   
  
After catching the lost puppy-expression on her face as she watched her food be carried away from her, Remy laughed reached for her hand. "Je suis désolé, amour. I make you more."  
  
She looked down at her lap; he'd managed to thread his fingers through hers and he felt so solid and stable through her gloves that she almost trembled from the intensity of the touch. Her eyes lifted and met his warm look straight on. It was the moment to tell him, before any more time passed, before there were any more close calls like the one with Scott.   
  
He took a step closer, bringing himself right up against the counter. Without realizing it, she had parted her legs and he rested in the space between them now. Her being on the counter brought them at perfect eye level with one another.   
  
Remy's hand released hers and settled onto her thigh. "I can make you somet'in' else, too," he said, his voice throbbing with raw sexuality. His other hand moved around her body, pressing on her lower back until their chests were almost touching. His mouth was so near hers now that she could feel his hot, sweet breath on her cheek. "All you got t'do is ask, ma chere." When she closed her eyes, he brushed his lips across the very ends of her long lashes, ever so careful not to make contact with her skin. "You know I can't say 'non' t'you."   
  
"Ah'm fine, Remy," she lied, opening her eyes. Rogue leaned back and to the side to escape the torture of being so close, and yet so far away from him. Her secret pressed on her chest like all the bricks it had taken to build the mansion. "Ah'm not really hungry anymore." She'd get something to eat later; the last thing she wanted was to hurt the baby she seemed unable to tell him about.   
  
He let her slip off the counter; in fact, he remained motionless, staring at the cream-colored tiles while she prepared to leave. She came up behind him and he felt her hands on his back. "Ah didn't tell ya…Ah'm so glad yer back, sugah. My life…it wasn't righ' without you bein' here."   
  
Remy forced a smile, even though she couldn't see it. "I know de feelin', chere." Her hands dropped away, and he sensed her walk off a second later. He braced his hands on the counter and hung his head, cursing bitterly in French.   
  
Storm found him still in that position when she came into the kitchen five minutes later. With quiet understanding, she turned off the stove underneath the pan of oil and threw away the unused dough. Gambit was a fairly neat cook, so there wasn't much else for her to do. She approached her friend and touched his arm.   
  
His head shot up; his eyes, naturally red and black, seemed even darker. "Dere be somet'in, Stormy," he began. "Somet'in' she don' want me t'know."   
  
He looked so completely anguished that she forgave him the use of her hated nickname. "Come, Gambit." She gestured to him. "Follow me."  
  
"We goin' where, petit?"   
  
"I designed a new Danger Room program with Scott. It might help you work some things out."   
  
He ran his tongue over his lower lip, thinking. "Dat sound like de right idea." Gambit nodded. "Lead de way."  
  
Storm smiled and walked past him. The men of the house were entirely predictable. Any problem they had could be forgotten in the midst of a good fight.  
  
****  
  
She had Jubilee bring her a sandwich and a glass of milk. There was a twinge of guilt at using the girl just because she was too chicken to venture out of her room and run the risk of encountering Remy again, but Rogue got over it after she'd eaten and stopped the rumbling in her stomach.   
  
Jubilee was still sitting cross-legged on the foot of her bed, going on and on about her tragic French test. Rogue listened with half an ear until she heard Remy's name.   
  
"What's that, sugah?"   
  
The girl gave her an exasperated look. "You didn't hear a thing I just said, did you?"  
  
"Sorry." Rogue sipped her milk. "My head ain't workin' right."  
  
"It's because of him, isn't it?" Jubilee bent over, resting her elbows on Rogue's hand-sewn quilt and propping her chin up with her hands. "He's got you spinnin', doesn't he?"  
  
She smiled with the amusement of an older sister. "What'da ya know 'bout spinnin', child?"   
  
"Hey!" Jubilee sat up, indignant. "I'm no baby. Okay…maybe I haven't been in love or anything like that yet, but I do have two really good eyes. And I know how you looked when you saw him earlier."   
  
"How did Ah look?" Rogue asked, wistfully and genuinely curious.  
  
The girl smiled broadly. "Like you just found a diamond at the bottom of your box of Lucky Charms."   
  
Rogue had to laugh. "Sugah, you are nothin' if not entertainin'."   
  
"I try." Jubilee considered her for a second. "Did ya tell him? About the baby?" It probably wasn't her place to ask, and her conscious was screaming at her to shut up, but she wanted to know. She wasn't very good at keeping secrets, and she really wasn't good at keeping ones she didn't know she was supposed to be.   
  
"No," Rogue said, setting her milk aside.   
  
"Why not?"  
  
She took a breath, fighting the sudden fire in her lungs. "Because, sugah, Ah ain't got that brave heart no more. Ah left it…somewhere in Antarctica."   
  
The silence that followed was uncomfortable to say the least. Jubilee unfolded her legs and got up off the bed. Rogue didn't seem to notice, so lost was she to her sad thoughts. "You wanna know what I think?" When she got no reply, Jubilee went on. "I think that if you lost it at all, you got it back today. And maybe it is a little beat-up, but it still knows what's right. And I don't think that keepin' him outta the loop is right." She paused. "But then…I am just a kid."   
  
Rogue let her get all the way to the door before she lifted her head. "Jubes." When she had the girl's attention, she pressed her fingers to her mouth and blew her a little kiss. Jubilee smiled and left the room, shutting the door gently behind her.   
  
As soon as she was gone, Rogue felt it. Like someone was blowing bubbles inside her belly, the baby moved. There was no definition to the sensation; it was still too early to feel elbows or feet. It was just a brief fluttering, but enough to ensure that there was someone in there. Someone she'd made with the man she loved.   
  
The reality of her pregnancy sunk in even deeper and for the first time, she felt the joy that Hank had told her she would. She pressed a hand against her belly and brushed away a tear with the other.   
  
He should have been there to share it with her. But she fell asleep awhile later, still unable to muster the courage to track him down and tell him, "Remy…yer gonna be a daddy."  
  
****  
  
To Be Continued 


	4. Always the last to know

Disclaimer: Characters within do not belong to me, but to Marvel, etc.  
  
Author's Notes: Thanks for all the great, terrific support for the story!! I appreciate every comment, I truly, truly do. And I only have a few of my own, to clarify some stuff. First of all, I never took French. Spanish in high school, German and Japanese in college, and that's it for me and languages. So, the only French you'll see in here comes either from what I've seen Gambit say in the comics, or Altavista's translator. I know the person who made this comment didn't mean to be nitpicky, but I think that as long as Gambit's character is intact, his exact language isn't really all that important in the grand scheme of things. If I ever start having him call *Wolverine* "my dear", then you can really complain;) Not that I'd ever do that because...it's just not right! And not in a moral sense; I'm straight, not narrow. Wait...how did I get this far off track? Sigh, sorry. I'll stop babbling. Enjoy this chapter; it somehow wrote itself over the long weekend, despite many, many distractions.  
  
****  
  
Unexpected  
  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
A week and a half after Gambit's return to the mansion, Jubilee was convinced that it would take nothing short of a blow-out celebration to smooth over whatever lingering resentments or doubts plagued the team.   
  
"I'm not talkin' like a masked ball or anything crazy like that," she rattled on to the Professor as he sat in his chair behind his desk, patiently listening. "But maybe, like...I don't know. A party. Just somethin'!!" Jubilee plopped down in a hard-backed chair. "I mean, everyone's been so...edgy since he got back. Like they don't know what to say to him. Maybe a party would help everyone chill out."   
  
Xavier considered this for a moment. "Perhaps you're right. Tensions have been running high as of late."   
  
"Yeah, 'specially since we can't say a word about...well...you know." She popped her gum, scowling slightly. Such big, huge, wonderful news, and no one could even breathe a word about it in case Gambit might overhear. To an impetuous sixteen year-old, it was pure torture.   
  
He watched her, amused, but understanding. "This is something Rogue must do on her own time. All we can do is support her and the decisions she's making, no matter what we might think of them. But..." He maneuvered his chair out from around his desk. "I believe a celebration might be entirely in order. Good thinking, Jubilee."   
  
The girl beamed. "Hey, any excuse is a good excuse to party!" She checked her watch. "Crap! I was supposed to meet Wolvie in the Danger Room, like, ten minutes ago! He's gonna kill me!! Thanks, Professor!"   
  
"I'll speak to Storm about what Gambit might like," Xavier called out as she grabbed her bag and sped out of the room. **Even though,** he thought once she was gone. **Storm seems to be the most uncomfortable around him.**   
  
****   
  
"It's not that I'm not comfortable around him, Professor." Storm spritzed water on an exotic looking flower. "It's just..." She didn't seem able to find the words to continue. "Tell me what I'm feeling. Because I cannot figure it out for myself. And I have been trying. Ever since he returned."   
  
She moved past him on her way to water the rest of the plants that brought so much color and life into her room. "Is it guilt, Ororo?" Xavier asked, delicately.   
  
"Guilt." Storm fingered the edge of one tiger lily. "Yes. There is guilt. How could there not be? Professor..." She folded her arms, still holding onto the spray bottle. "He might well have died in the snow. In fact, it only seems to be by the power of his will that he survived at all. But if he had perished...it would have been on our heads. On my head."   
  
"You blame yourself. Rogue blames herself. The team blames themselves. Gambit blames himself. I blame myself." Xavier shook his head. "I'm not entirely sure any one of us is rightful in doing so."   
  
"Someone is to blame for it," she replied, rather bitterly. "And as fitting as it might be to pin it all upon Magneto, it would be cowardly to do so. Magneto did not make us leave him behind."   
  
"No, he only forced you all into cells in Antarctica, and made Rogue reveal Gambit's secrets, things you were never meant to know." He moved closer to her. "It is little wonder that there is so much confusion and so much leftover pain, my dear. It was a situation that tested the group's strength."   
  
Storm nodded. "And we failed." There was a pause. "We failed him."   
  
"Yet he chose to come back. He chooses to stay. Gambit is a unique individual, Storm. He has   
  
the capacity to forgive everyone but himself. That is why he and Rogue can understand each other so very well. The question now is, can you forgive yourself?"   
  
"I don't know. I do want things to be as they were," she said, wistfully. "But every time I see him, I feel simply horrible. I certainly don't feel worthy enough to call myself his friend, to call him by his real name, even. The only time I did...it didn't feel right."   
  
"It will with time. But you cannot avoid him to avoid these feelings, Ororo."   
  
The dark-skinned woman gave him a long look. "I do understand that."   
  
"Of course you do." There was a pause. "Jubilee came to me with an idea earlier. She believes tensions can be eased by some sort of homecoming party for our returned friend."   
  
"A party?" She tilted her head to the side; white hair spilled over her shoulder. "It is so simplistic that it just might work."   
  
"Knowing Gambit as you do..."   
  
"Once did."   
  
"As you do...I thought you might have some suggestions on what sort of affair he would enjoy."   
  
Storm unfolded her arms as she thought. After a moment, a smile played on her lips. "For Remy? Nothing but low country boil."   
  
****   
  
"What the goddamn hell is a low country boil?"   
  
"I think pretty much what it sounds like, Logan." Jean looked up from slicing long links of sausage into smaller pieces. "Corn, sausage, shrimp, potatoes, all boiled in a big pot over an open flame with lots of Tobasco and seasonings. Apparently..." She pushed hair off her forehead. "It's a Louisiana thing."   
  
He snorted, looking around the kitchen counters at the small mountains of each item she had listed off. "Apparently. And we're doin' all this, why?"   
  
"Because. He's been home for two weeks now. And we've barely acknowledged that he was ever gone."   
  
"I thought we were doin' pretty good like that."   
  
"Logan, really." Exasperated, she waved her knife at him. "He's our friend and teammate. And don't you think he's been punished for what he did long enough?"   
  
Logan lifted one shoulder and leaned against the counter. "Seems to me he ain't had it so bad. He lived, didn't he?"   
  
"Only to come back to what? A household that's too guilt-ridden to even apologize? And the woman he loves who's..." She lowered her voice. "...pregnant, but hasn't bothered to tell him yet?"   
  
"You judgin' her for that, too? Didn't think it was your style, Jeannie."   
  
The woman *he* had once loved shook her head, red hair flying around her face. "I would never stand in judgment of any of my friends' personal lives. But she's miserable. Trust me, no matter what she's said to the contrary, she is. And he knows there's something he doesn't know, but he has no idea what it is. All he feels is rejected whenever they're together, which isn't even that often, if you haven't noticed." She set down her knife with more emphasis than necessary. "Why can't she just tell him, Logan?"   
  
"Because, darlin'." He pushed off the counter. "It ain't like you and Cyke. What they got is complicated. Always has been. Addin' a baby into that fucked-up mix...it scares the absolute hell outta her."   
  
"All the more reason why she shouldn't have to do it alone." Jean dumped handfuls of uncooked sausage into the twenty-gallon pot that would soon start boiling over the open fire some of the students were preparing outside under her husband's supervision. "You know...he'd probably ask her to marry him."   
  
Logan went to the fridge for a beer. "You been pokin' 'round his head that much, Jeannie?"   
  
She threw him a disgusted look. "Make yourself useful, Logan. All that food needs to go into this pot."   
  
"Gumbo better damn well appreciate all this," the Wolverine grumbled, abandoning his beer and grabbing the pot around the middle with both arms. "'Cause I don't help cook for just anyone."   
  
Jean kissed his cheek. Years ago, it would have been the highlight of his day. Now, he accepted the friendly gesture with a mild grunt. "You're a doll, Logan. Do you know that?"   
  
He extracted his claws and swept shrimp into the pot with them. "It's been noted, darlin'."   
  
****   
  
"All right, Rogue. You may sit up now."   
  
She did as Hank instructed, readjusting the paper gown she'd changed into for her examination. "Everythin' lookin' good?"   
  
"I'll have the results of the blood tests sometime tomorrow, but for all intents and purposes, yes. The fetus continues to thrive." He pulled off his rubber gloves with a satisfied snap. "Do you have any questions or concerns?"   
  
Rogue nibbled on her lower lip. "Ah felt it move."   
  
"Oh, Rogue...that's wonderful. When?"   
  
"Two weeks ago. The day Remy...the day he came back."   
  
"And you've waited until now to tell me?"   
  
Hank's subtle reprimand made her look away. "Ah was afraid it migh' not happen again. But it has...a couple o' times since. Ah'm sorry, Hank."   
  
"Rogue." The furry, blue man took off his glasses. "I don't pretend to understand the emotions a pregnant woman must go through. But I can't help but notice your...lack of faith in your own body. It's almost like you expect to wake up any day now just...not pregnant anymore."   
  
"Ah do," she whispered. "Sometimes." Her voice hardened. "My body's messed up my life more than Ah ever could've on my own. Ah don' 'spect it to ever do anythin' good for me. 'Specially not somethin' this important. If Ah just keep thinkin' it's all gonna blink away...Ah migh' not be so torn up when it does."   
  
"Your fears are certainly understandable," Hank consoled her. "But for your own sake, try to set them aside and enjoy the wonder of it all." He cleared his throat. "Speaking of wonder, isn't there still one person who's missing out on it entirely?"   
  
"Hank..."   
  
"I speak to you only as a man, my dear, not a doctor. If I were in Gambit's position, I would want to know."   
  
"Ah'm gonna tell him," Rogue said decisively. "Today."   
  
The doctor smiled. "I truly believe you and he can be happy, if you'll only let yourselves be."   
  
She slid off the exam table and reached for the maternity jeans she and Storm had picked out on a shopping trip the day before. "Ain' like we've never tried, sugah," she replied, tugging the pants up under her gown. Hank politely looked away to let her pull on a loose, green top that covered her protruding belly and successfully hid her secret. "Thanks. Ya know...for everythin'."   
  
"It is, as always, my pleasure. I shall see you outside in a bit."   
  
Pulling on her gloves, Rogue left the infirmary with a cloud over her thoughts. The party in honor of his return home after their betrayal of him might not be the best place to tell Remy about the baby, but it simply could not be avoided any longer. There was hurt in his eyes every time she diverted her path to avoid him, hurt she perpetuated by inadvertently forcing the rest of the mansion to limit their interactions with him, for fear of accidently saying too much.   
  
They'd hurt each other enough for one lifetime.   
  
It shouldn't have surprised her to run into him on the first sublevel of the house; he had been spending a tremendous amount of time in the Danger Room, according to Storm and Logan. Still, nothing prepared her to see him emerge from the sliding doors, bare-chested with a white towel around his neck. A healthy sheen of sweat covered his muscles, and she couldn't help but remember the last time she'd seen him like that.   
  
"Ah love ya," she'd breathed, clinging to him as they both came down from the very peak of ecstasy, oblivious to the freezing cold air around them. "Remy...please don' ever forget that. Ah love ya."   
  
He'd murmured the same, only in French, too caught up in the intensity of the moment to think in English. She shivered now, wanting with every fiber of her being to be beneath him again, skin to skin, his lusty, sated voice whispering in her ear.   
  
Remy blinked upon seeing her approaching from the general direction of the infirmary. "Chere? W'at you doin' down here?"   
  
"Um..." She thought quickly, and decided to go with the truth. Well, at least part of it. "Ah had an appointment with Hank."   
  
It was the wrong thing to say, because immediately his face pulled into a worried frown. "Dat's it." He started towards her, but ended up passing her by. "I go to Hank and find out w'at it is you don' tell Gambit 'bout you bein' sick."   
  
"Remy!" She made a grab for his arm, barely managing to catch it. She could feel the moisture of his clean sweat through her gloves. "Please, sugah...Ah promise ya. Ah ain' sick!"   
  
"Den why you be visitin' de doctor, chere?" Frustration pounded in his words. "Why?"   
  
"Ah..." Rogue looked down at the floor. "Ah do need to tell ya somethin'. But not here, 'kay?" She ran her tongue over her lips. "Yer headin' upstairs to get ready for yer party, righ'?"   
  
Remy cursed under his breath. "De party..." Irritable, he crossed his arms. "If dere is somet'in' needs t'be said, say it here an' now."   
  
"Ah...can't. Not here, Remy. Ya gotta...let me do this. Just..." She looked up, meeting his glare. "Meet me at the bridge in the garden in an hour. Ah promise ya...no more keepin' secrets."   
  
"Secrets don' work for us, ma belle." He moved back towards her, surrounding her with his heady scent. "I lived wit'out you too long. T'inkin' somet'in' migh' take you away...it keep Gambit up every nigh' since he come back."   
  
Rogue struggled to keep from crying. "Ah didn' know."   
  
"Didn' know w'at, chere? Dat I love you? Dat your health be important to me?" He attempted a chuckle, but it came out so sad that she lost the battle with her tears. "You be anyt'in' but stupid, amour. But sometime...you act like it." Remy reached out for her, but she pulled away due to his lack of proper protection. He let his hand fall back to his side. "One hour. You be late, Gambit track Hank down."   
  
She watched him walk away. In one hour, his life would change forever, but the only thing he was worried about was her health. She, the woman who had abandoned him and still not apologized for it...he was concerned about whether she lived or died. Rogue didn't want to believe it; feeling unloved was so much easier for her than accepting that she was loveable. What had she ever done in her entire life to deserve him?   
  
Of course, as he got into the elevator, Remy's thoughts ran along the same vein. What had *he* ever done to deserve surviving the South Pole and getting to be with her again? Or were the fates just waiting around the corner, waiting to snatch her away with some disease? He pounded his fist against the elevator wall. He hadn't even planned on attending the party they were throwing for him, not because he didn't appreciate the gesture, but because he wasn't quite convinced that he'd earned it. But now, he had to go. Might as well make the best of it. And hope that whatever it was Rogue had to tell him, he would be able to handle it.   
  
****   
  
If Jubilee had known that by bugging Gambit to join in the festivities being held in his honor, she'd be keeping him from Rogue when she needed him the most, she never would have started in on him. But as it was, she caught him as he came down the grand staircase, fresh from his shower and determined to get out to the Japanese gardens behind the mansion.   
  
"Gambit!!" She ran for him and grabbed his arm. "Come play Frisbee with us!!"   
  
He gave her a tight smile. "Petit, any ot'er day. But dere someplace Gambit need t'be now."   
  
She was so caught up in the excitement that his words barely registered. "Just a short game, I promise!!" They emerged from the cool house onto the sun-splashed back lawn. The entire school seemed to have come out for the occasion, enjoying the afternoon's mild weather. A game of tag was on in full-force, limited, of course, by the standard "no-powers" rule. A good distance away from the frolicking students, Cyclops, Storm and Wolverine tended to a massive bonfire over which the biggest pot he'd ever seen was situated. The air smelled like fresh grass and flowers, cayenne and ground sassafras. It was like walking through New Orleans in the first days of spring, before the scent of the river overtook everything.   
  
Their entrance did not go unnoticed. Tag and the food were both forgotten as the students called out to him, welcoming him home. He exchanged looks with a few of the X-Men. There was still guilt in Storm's white eyes, but when he silently thanked her with a nod, some of it dissipated.   
  
Jubilee's hand squeezed his. "We really missed you when you were gone."   
  
Remy didn't have a chance to say anything. Jean approached them from behind; she carried two massive baskets. It wasn't necessary to peek under the red and white-checkered cloths to know that they held fresh loaves of French bread. **Come on, everyone,** Jean's voice echoed in his brain as she used her powers to make sure her message reached everyone without having to yell. **Time to eat.**   
  
He threw a tortured stare towards the little stone path that led into the garden. Jubilee tugged on his arm. "There's shrimp!! And potatoes! Everything's been boiling forever and it smells just like when you cook! I don't know if it'll be half as good, though."   
  
"Petit..." Remy started again. One look into her hopeful face and he just couldn't disappoint her. There was still ten more minutes until he was supposed to meet Rogue. One plate wouldn't take that long to down. "You do all dis for Gambit?" he asked her as they started towards the long table set up near the fire.   
  
"You'd better appreciate it, bub." Logan passed by them, on a mission from Jean to get more butter.   
  
Xavier's chair was silent as he came up from behind. "You are a part of this family, Remy. Whatever happened in the past should stay there, don't you think?"   
  
He hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans. "Easier t'say den t'do."   
  
"It is usually thus," the older man conceded. "Still, it is good to have you back." He moved on ahead of them to supervise the meal.   
  
The food was excellent, perfectly spiced and certainly authentic, although the last boil he'd been to had taken place right on the bayou, just as the sun set out on the water. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that he was fourteen years old again, back there with his first family, the Thieves of New Orleans, sucking the heads from a pile of red crayfish, listening to the older men tell off-color jokes in French and staring at the women as they fanned themselves. His love for the opposite sex had been born there; the way they always managed to look cool and collected, even in the worst heat of the summer, never failed to excite him. It hadn't been long after that boil that one of those women on the bayou had decided to show him exactly what those jokes were all about.   
  
But when he opened his eyes again, he was back on the pristine grounds of an upstate New York mansion, older, but none the wiser, listening to the chatter of three dozen teenagers and staring at a plate full of cold shrimp and sausage, unable to eat another bite until he spoke to the only woman who'd ever completely mattered to him. The woman who'd shown him exactly what it meant to love.   
  
He left the table as silently as possible, after making sure that everyone's attention was elsewhere. Storm ended up being the only one to see him leave, but she said nothing as she watched him disappear into the woods. She'd seen Rogue go that way only a half-hour earlier.   
  
It had never been made entirely clear to him why the Professor, or the Professor's family, had built an extensive Japanese garden on their estate, but he knew it to be one of Rogue's favorite places, so it had been no surprise when she chose it for whatever it was she had to tell him. He actually felt his heart miss a few beats. The taste of fear was heavy in the back of his throat and so much sharper than Tobasco sauce. What if she was going to tell him that she was dying of some incurable disease? The guessing game she'd put him through for two weeks was finally going to come to an end, and he'd never been more scared in his life.   
  
Without her, he was lost. It had been established time and time again. His life was only ever a real life when she was in it.   
  
Remy LeBeau had known pain since he was old enough feel it. He'd experienced fear, been intimate with loss and courted disaster. But until he emerged from the woods and spotted Rogue passed out on the bamboo bridge that curved across the babbling creek, he'd never known panic.   
  
He'd also never moved so fast in his entire life. Within the time it took to blink, he was on the bridge, scooping her limp body up into his arms. "Rogue!" Tears stung the corners of his demonic eyes. "Look at me." He wasn't wearing gloves; he couldn't pat her cheeks to force her attention. Remy found himself helpless. "Wake up, chere…"   
  
She was paler than the fluffy clouds that dotted the sky. He shook her slightly; the movement seemed to work. Rogue's lashes fluttered and her eyes slowly opened. "Ah'm bleedin', Remy," she whispered.   
  
"W'at?" He shook his head. "Gambit don' see no…" His eyes trailed down the length of her body. It was then that he saw it, the scarlet stains at the apex of her thighs. "Mon Dieu!"  
  
Rogue pulled at his coat lapels. "Get me t'Hank. Ah don' wanna…" She didn't get to finish the sentence; whatever strength she had left faded once again.  
  
"You ain' gonna be dyin' on Gambit," he told her, as concretely as his current state of sheer terror would let him be. "I get you t'Hank…you just don' leave me, Rogue." With careful urgency, he picked her up. "Don' leave me."  
  
When he burst out of the woods a minute later, he saw none of the shocked, silent stares from the people gathered on the lawn. Storm jumped to her feet, along with the team's blue doctor who had apparently joined them in the short time he'd been gone. Remy stood on the edge of the lawn, unaware of the moisture that streaked his cheeks as he cradled his lover's body against his chest.   
  
"Help me, mes amis," he asked them, the words choked as his throat closed up.   
  
****  
  
  
  
A dark cloud had settled over Xavier's mansion, and it wasn't even a figurative one. When she didn't fight to control herself, Storm's emotions often triggered interesting weather patterns. There was still talk about whether or not the heat wave last winter had had anything to do with Wolverine returning after a two-month absence. Right then, however, she was anything but happy. And the weather had taken a serious turn for the worse.  
  
Unconscious of the rain that threatened to soak most of the state, Storm reached for the cold hand of the man sitting next to her just outside of the infirmary. "Remy," she said, barely noticing the ease with which his real name came to her once again. "Rogue is stronger than most of us combined. She's going to be just fine."  
  
His back was slumped over; only his elbows on his knees supported his weight. Slowly, Remy shook his head. "W'at's wrong wit' her?" Storm pulled her hand away when he balled up his fist. "Why nobody tell Gambit anythin'?"  
  
"Hank's with her." She glanced over at Logan. He leaned against the opposite wall; the scowl on his face was only made deeper by the worry in his eyes. "You know he'd never let anything happen to her."   
  
"Don' seem like he done much t'keep her well so far," Remy retorted bitterly. "She just been in dere wit' him…an' he let her go." Anger infused every cell in his body that wasn't occupied with anguish. Unable to sit any longer, Remy jumped to his feet. The long hem of his coat brushed against Storm's legs as he began to pace back and forth, muttering in French. She couldn't understand him, but whatever he was saying, it wasn't pleasant.   
  
Logan lifted his head. "Calm down, bub."  
  
The simple command was the proverbial straw breaking the camel's back. Pausing only to stare at the shorter man in cold disbelief, Remy's lip curled up into a snarl. The urge to charge something and send it sailing in Wolverine's direction was hard to fight back. With a low growl in the back of his throat, the Cajun man whipped around and stalked off towards the Danger Room.  
  
Storm stood up when he disappeared through the silent doors, but Logan held up a hand. "Let me, darlin'."  
  
"I'm afraid he might hurt himself, Logan."  
  
"Trust me. I ain't gonna let him kill himself before I get a shot at it."   
  
"Logan…"  
  
"I'm just kiddin'." He took her hand, pulling her body up alongside his. "Don't you know when I'm kiddin' and when I'm not, Ro?"  
  
She swallowed. "I never make assumptions where you're concerned. You wouldn't stand for it, anyway."  
  
He gave her a half-smile. "Yeah. You got me there, darlin'." Before anyone could interrupt, and before he could reconsider, Logan pressed a hard, possessive kiss against her mouth. "Assume that from now on…things ain't gonna be the same between us."   
  
Her eyes were still closed when he released her and followed Gambit's path to the Danger Room. He pressed a few keys to unlock the doors in mid-program. Once inside, Logan forced himself to forget about the sweet taste of her lips and focused on the task at hand.   
  
Remy hadn't bothered implementing much detail into his program. The room wasn't altered by holograms, except for the massive Sentinel that his sometimes-friend was currently fighting. He watched Gambit charge four playing cards in rapid succession; the man then hurtled them at the place where the Sentinel's bolts connected its body to its head.   
  
The machine wasn't about to go down that easy. With the arm-mounted blasters that the computer knew real Sentinels to have, the holographic enemy fired at Gambit. Remy barely had time to roll away before the ground he had been standing on exploded. This only seemed to fuel him; he charged another card and threw it with a tortured cry. It impacted in the precise spot to bring the Sentinel crashing down only inches away from where Gambit kneeled.  
  
"Stop program," Logan said before another Sentinel could materialize.   
  
Remy struggled for breath; it wasn't so much the energy expelled that had taken it away from him, but the intensity of his emotions every time he pictured Rogue pale and bleeding. "W'at you do…dat for?" He shook his head, flinging sweat from the ends of his hair. "Allez vous en!!" he shouted, his voice bouncing off the steel walls. "Get out o' here!! Leave Gambit be!"  
  
"Sure, pal. I'll just leave you here to keep on fightin' holograms 'til you wear yourself out and die. That sounds almost as much fun as gettin' to tell Rogue you killed yourself when she wakes up."  
  
"If de femme wakes up."  
  
Logan folded his arms and snorted. "You got way too little faith in her. No wonder you don't deserve her."  
  
Remy looked at him with thundering eyes. "We had dis conversation before, mon frere." He spit out the term as he did when confronting an enemy. He pulled out a card and charged it between his two longest fingers. "How 'bout we don' talk no more?"  
  
"Whatever you want, bub." The Wolverine unsheathed his claws. Gambit was a step ahead of him, though. The charged card grazed his ear as it flew by. The wall behind him exploded, knocking him forward. "Oh…" Logan picked himself up off the ground. "Not a smart move."  
  
He ran for Remy, baring his teeth in a ferocious snarl. One arm shot out, making a wide sweep intended to inflict superficial wounds onto the man's arm and slow him down enough to incapacitate and restrain him.   
  
But it wasn't going to be as quick as that. Remy jumped back and dug into his coat. This time, instead of a playing card, he pulled out his collapsible bo. When he had the weapon ready to go, he brandished it at Logan.   
  
"I ain't crazy 'bout fightin' you, Gumbo."  
  
"Dat or you don' t'ink you can win," the other man retorted, twirling the bo in his hands.   
  
"I promise you…it ain't that." Logan's eyes narrowed. "I could mangle that thing in less time than it takes you to unfold it."   
  
Remy swung it up over his head and bent his knees in a combat stance. "Let's find out for sure, que dites-vous?"  
  
"Gambit! Wolverine!" Scott's sharp, reprimanding voice usually had little effect on either man, but right then, they both glanced at the doors when he spoke. His face was grave. Remy lowered his staff and Logan retracted his claws. "She's awake." Their leader pointed at the Cajun man. "She wants to see you."  
  
****  
  
When Scott left the infirmary to bring Gambit to her, Rogue turned her head on the exam table to see Hank. "Am Ah losin' it?" she asked, her voice barely audible.  
  
The pause that followed told her too much. "There's still…tests to perform, Rogue," the doctor said. She heard something break, but she couldn't see that it was a beaker shattering under the pressure of his fist.   
  
Jean squeezed Rogue's hand and reached out to Hank with her mind. **Are you all right?**  
  
He ignored the question, but didn't mask his thoughts from her. **If I had stayed in the lab and finished her earlier tests…I might have been able to prevent this.**  
  
"Jean?" Rogue looked at the woman standing alongside her. "Ah need to know…'fore he gets in here."  
  
She smoothed Rogue's hair away from her damp forehead with her other, latex-covered hand. She'd never seen her friend and teammate looking quite so frail before. Rogue was always the strength of the group, robust and full of life and rarely prone to showing weakness, even in her darkest moments. But now, she lay in front of Jean, shivering in a hospital gown that already had one or two spots of blood on it. The IV in her wrist dripped drugs into her system to stop the bleeding, but they hadn't taken complete effect yet.   
  
"No, Rogue," she said softly, but firmly, as if willing it to be. "You're not going to lose your baby."  
  
The other woman's eyes were red with unshed tears. "Ah hate bein' all weak like this. Maybe…" She took a breath. "Maybe Ah just can't do it."  
  
**You can.** It wasn't Jean's thoughts that soothed her scared mind, but the Professor's from wherever he was within the mansion. Probably calming the students, Rogue thought. She'd been in and out of consciousness when Remy brought her out of the garden, but she remembered the children's fright. **Rogue, without great struggle, there is no great reward.**  
  
She really wasn't in the mood for well-structured motivations; Rogue closed her eyes and touched her stomach, wincing ever so slightly. The pain had struck her down as she waited for Remy on the bridge; she'd only noticed the blood when she dropped to her knees. If she wasn't losing the baby, what was wrong with her?  
  
The infirmary doors slid open and she could sense him long before she forced her eyes open. His presence filled the room. He crossed to her without a word. "Chere?" Her vision was slightly blurry with exhaustion, but she could see him above her. His hair was damp with sweat and he was pulling on a pair of latex gloves that Jean thoughtfully handed him.   
  
Then, his hands were on her cheeks, in her hair, caressing her like he might a butterfly's wings. "I'm here, chere," he whispered, bringing her gloved fingers up to his mouth. "I never leave…I swear. Just tell Gambit w'at's wrong."   
  
"Remy…" She could sense Jean backing away to give them some privacy. After wetting her lips as best she could, Rogue looked straight into his eyes. "Ah'm gonna have a baby." Her tears came in great waves. "Ah hope."  
  
****  
  
To Be Continued 


	5. Possession

Disclaimer: Characters haven't become mine since yesterday.  
  
Author's Notes: Sorry for the cliffie last chapter, but thank you for all the wonderful feedback. You know, the Ro/Lo in this story came totally out of nowhere!! I swear, I never really thought about them as a couple before, but in the context of this story, I like it. So, I'm going with it. Sorry. Next story, if there is one, might not be the same. I don't really have any definitive stance on Wolverine's love life. If it seems like this story is zipping along a little too fast...hehe...oh, just wait. That was my evil writer's moment. I'm done now. Happy reading!!   
  
****  
  
Unexpected  
  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
"So just let me try  
  
And I will be good to you.  
  
Just let me try  
  
And I will be there for you.  
  
I'll show you why  
  
You're so much more than good enough."  
  
-Sarah McLachlan  
  
****  
  
"In completely normal pregnancies, the placenta forms high in the uterus, right around here." Hank pointed to a specific place on the 3D hologram of a woman's body that he'd projected over the lab table. "But in about one out of two hundred pregnancies, the placenta forms much lower, either partially or entirely covering the cervix. We call this placenta previa, and it usually only occurs in older mothers who fall into certain risk categories. It's very rare for a first time mother under thirty, but…" He looked at the small group gathered around him. "Rogue appears to have it."   
  
The woman partially sitting up on the infirmary exam table shook her head. "That sounds 'bout right, sugah. Nothin' easy for me."   
  
"The bleeding was a warning sign of the condition." Hank turned off the hologram. "If I had gotten a chance to look at the results of your earlier tests, I would have spotted it right away, but it wouldn't have changed anything."  
  
"W'at you sayin', mon ami?" In the far corner of the room, Remy unfolded his arms from the tight position he'd had them in for over an hour. "De bébé…"  
  
"Is going to be just fine." The tension in the room melted in one collective sigh. Rogue felt Jean squeezing one hand, Logan, the other. Her eyes met Remy's for a brief second, before he looked away. She bit her lip and looked back at Hank as he continued, "I'm restricting you to bed-rest for another week, just to limit your movements and ensure that the bleeding won't return. When the baby is more developed, it might become necessary to induce early labor and deliver by means of Caesarian, which shouldn't be too traumatic because natural birth was never going to be possible anyway."  
  
"It wasn'?" Remy asked.  
  
"Too much skin-to-skin contact," Rogue whispered. "Ah'd rather not kill the child while Ah'm tryin' to give it life."  
  
He looked up at the ceiling. "'Course, chere. Forgive dis Caj'n. He ain' had de time t'think 'bout any o' dis."  
  
His bitter sarcasm cut into her, but she lifted her chin as much as possible. "Ah'll explain everythin' if ya just give me a chance."   
  
"Seem t'me like you had plenty o' chances in de past two weeks."  
  
Logan and Jean exchanged a look, before the red-haired woman glanced at Hank. "Do you want her to stay here, or can she be moved back to her room?"  
  
"I want to monitor her for twenty-four hours. After that, bed-rest in her own bed would certainly be acceptable, and preferable." He peeked over his shoulder. Remy was leaning against the wall, looking like a thundercloud on two legs. It was obviously time to give the parents-to-be a long overdue moment alone. "Why don't we go upstairs and tell everyone the good news, if the Professor hasn't already."   
  
Jean nodded before smiling down at Rogue. **See?** she silently told her. **You're still a momma.** She touched the white part of the woman's hair. **He is angry. Hurt and scared. But there's joy tucked away in all of that. Let him find it on his own.**  
  
Rogue closed her eyes. "Thank ya, Jean."  
  
She felt a huge, warm hand cup her cheek. "Stay strong, darlin'." Logan pulled away, and she heard his voice harden. "Gumbo…don't do or say anythin' I might have to kill you for later." There was no reply to this; a few seconds later she heard the infirmary doors open and close, and they were alone.  
  
"How you feel, chere?"  
  
His first sentence made her eyes pop open. "What? Why are ya…worryin' 'bout how I feel?"  
  
Remy cursed sharply. "Actin' stupid again. Dis ain' de time for it." He took a few steps towards her, but still maintained a decent distance. Like he had been since she'd let the secret spill from her lips. "Dere's no more pain, oui?"  
  
"No. No more pain." Rogue looked down at her hands, covered by white Lycra. "Remy…" She paused. "Ah'm sorry."   
  
He released a heavy breath. "You should've told me, chere. But…you didn'. You hid it from me." Remy reached out and picked up her blood-stained pants from the chair on which they'd been draped. "Couldn' have much longer, neh?"  
  
"Ya know Ah was plannin' on tellin' ya in the garden."  
  
"I just want t'know why. Dat's all. Why, chere?" He dropped her clothes and approached the edge of the exam table. "Didn' you t'ink I could take knowin'?"  
  
"Ah…" Rogue brushed tears away, frustrated that they just wouldn't stop. "Ah wasn't real excited 'bout the idea myself for a long time. Ah only just started likin' it. Lovin' it." She lowered her eyes to her lap. "And Ah didn' really know how ya'd take it; it ain' somethin' we've ever talked 'bout."  
  
Remy rubbed his hand up and down his face. "Suppose we'd better start, chere."   
  
She lifted one shoulder. "Nothin' to discuss now, sugah. Ah'm havin' it, whether ya like it or not."  
  
She'd never seen the look that came over his face, and she'd thought she'd seen every look he was capable of. But then, he'd never looked at her like he didn't even know who she was, or how she could possibly be sitting in front of him, saying what was saying. "Did you forget **everyt'in'** 'bout Gambit w'en you dropped him in de snow?" he shouted. Rogue wanted to wince, but she maintained her composure. "Or do you t'ink 'cause he help kill in de past, he cap'ble o' killin' his own bébé?" She glanced away, but he grabbed her chin with his gloved hand and forced her to look him in the eye. "Do you?!"   
  
"Ah don' know!!" she shouted back, jerking out of his grip. "Ah mean, Ah almost killed it!! Maybe Ah though' ye'd have the same idea!!"  
  
Dead silence echoed her outburst. Remy took a step back, blinking once and then twice. "Chere…"   
  
She covered her mouth with her hand. "Ah didn' mean that, Remy." Her hand drifted down to her throat. "Ah couldn' go through with it. Ya wouldn'tve been able to either. Ah know ya well enough' to know that."  
  
"Den…" His chest expanded and contracted; he was struggling for each breath. "De question stays, chere. Why?"  
  
"Ah'm scared."   
  
As best he could remember, he'd never heard Rogue say that sentence. The cracks that had been punched into his heart with the news of her pregnancy grew wider. The fear on her face was obvious now that she wasn't hiding it. "You scared o' Gambit?"  
  
"No." Rogue shook her head. "Never you, Remy. Ah've only ever been scared o' what you make me feel." She crossed one arm over her stomach. "Ah'm scared 'bout havin' a baby Ah won' ever be able to hold. Ah'm scared that 'cause o' that, Ah'll be a bad mother to it." She bit her lip. "Most of all…Ah'm scared that ya migh' never forgive me for what Ah did to ya." Rogue met his gaze. "Remy, Ah'm so sorry," she whispered. When she blinked, her tears spilled over. "Ah don' care what ya felt that made me do it, Ah shouldn't've left ya there. Tellin' ya what Ah did…that ya didn' have a home no more." Her smooth forehead crinkled. "How can ya even look at me anymore?"  
  
"'Cause," he began. "You be de best part o' my life, chere."  
  
His words only increased her guilt. "Stop sayin' stuff like that!!"  
  
"Gambit don' like seein' his femme feelin' sorry for herself." He held up his hands. "An' 'fore you start in on de 'femme' t'ing, know dis. You are mine…more so now den ever. W'ether you like it or not."   
  
Having her words thrown back in her face, especially when she didn't feel worthy of them, made her snap back. "Is that only 'cause one o' yer lucky lil' swimmers got though an' started somethin'?"  
  
He looked amused. "Non, ma belle. You been mine since long 'fore I even got t'touch you." Remy put his hands on either side of the exam table, surrounding her from above. "Don' you know it by now? Dere's somet'in' good here, but only w'en we be t'gether. Dis…" He moved one hand to touch her stomach. It wasn't flat like he remembered, but round and firm. "Dis only make us better. Can you see dat?"  
  
She wanted to throw her arms around his neck; the rollercoaster of emotions she'd been riding for weeks didn't show any signs of slowing down. "Ah though' Ah'd killed ya. But Ah couldn' kill what ya helped make. Remy…" Rogue reached up and touched his cheek. "Please don' be so quick to forgive me. Ah don' deserve it. Ah never will."   
  
"Chere…dere's a lot I let you call de shots for." He covered her hand with his. "But you don' be de one t'decide dis. Gambit wanted t'die in de snow. You had me in dat pretty head you got…de death wish ain't somet'in' easy t'overcome."  
  
"But, Ah…"  
  
He laid his finger against her lips. "Soyez silencieux. For once, ma belle…stop talkin'. I know what I felt dat day. You wan' t'talk scared? De way Gambit saw himself in your eyes after Magneto made you kiss him…dat alone made him want t'freeze. But seein' you slip away from him…" Remy shook his head. "Dat was fear, chere. An' it stay 'til I see you in de boathouse."  
  
"Sugah…"  
  
"De Professor say…de past should stay in de past. Maybe he got somet'in' goin' wit' dat. He been righ' more often den not, oui?" She nodded. "Den…de past over wit', chere. Now de only t'ing we got t'worry 'bout…" He took her hand and put it on her belly; his palm closed over hers, connecting all three of them, despite the layers of material. "…is de future."  
  
****  
  
Jubilee's lower lip trembled and she turned her face into Logan's collar. "Rogonnaberigh?"  
  
"Wanna try that again, Jubes?"   
  
She sniffed and lifted her head. "Rogue's gonna be all right?"  
  
"Didn't you listen to Xavier, darlin'?"  
  
"I did. I just…" Jubilee wiped at her cheeks, suddenly embarrassed to be caught displaying this much emotion. "I just know you'd never lie to me, but the Professor…well, he'd stretch the truth…to protect us, of course!"  
  
Logan snorted softly. "Well, in this case, he told it like it is. Rogue's fine. The baby's fine." His brow furred. "The Cajun's fine…for now. Nothin' to cry about anymore." He brushed away one of her leftover tears with his finger. "Okay?"  
  
The girl nodded, then thought for a second. "They're still down there talkin', aren't they?"  
  
"Yeah." His frown turned into a glower. "He didn't seem to be takin' it all that well."  
  
"What do you mean? Wolvie?" Jubilee tilted her head to one side, making her earrings jingle. "Gambit wouldn't get mad about this; I just know it. He loves Rogue!"   
  
Logan's fist balled up. "Love is thinkin' about the other person before thinkin' about yourself. Seems to me like he wasn't doin' that much thinkin' about Rogue when he saw the chance to get what he's always wanted from her in that damn…"  
  
"Logan." Storm approached them, one eyebrow raised. There was only a flash of contrition on his face, but it was enough to satisfy her. She looked at the girl he had his arm around. "Jubilee, some of the students are putting together a card to take down to Rogue. Could you supervise the project; I see a problem brewing already between Heather and Mickey."   
  
Jubilee reluctantly nodded and after giving Logan a hug, left them to do Storm's bidding. He turned his attention onto the weather goddess. "Heather and Mickey?"  
  
"Our two budding artists," she explained. A moment passed. "Let me ask you something. Suppose we weren't able to touch. Ever."  
  
"Ro…"  
  
"And then say suddenly we had the chance." Storm propped her fists up on her hips. "Would you turn it down? Be careful how you answer this."  
  
He wanted to laugh at the same time he wanted defend himself. He chose to take her hand. "I can touch you, darlin'. And I ain't never gonna take that for granted."  
  
She dropped some of her severity; his fingers were perfectly calloused and felt amazing against her small, cool ones. "Please don't be so hard on him, Logan. What he went through in Antarctica…it was a thousand times more difficult than he'll ever admit to. And I'm not just talking about his trial. I know how much he cherishes Rogue. He'd never hurt her on purpose." Storm let her thumb caress the back of Logan's hand. "But…he is just human, like the rest of us, with all the weaknesses and desires that come with that. And if you expected him to be a good little Boy Scout in that cave…you'd better ask yourself if you could have done the same in his place."  
  
"The difference, Ro, is that I can restrain myself."   
  
"Yes, you can." She let go of his hand. "You've been wonderfully restrained for years. Trust me…I know."  
  
"I have been," he emphasized. "But I don't wanna be restrained anymore, Ro."   
  
She gave him a doubtful look. "You don't."  
  
Logan glanced across the room. Scott and Jean were watching them; they quickly turned their heads, feigning a conversation of their own. The Professor was herding children out of the room, urging the younger ones to head to bed. Bobby and Kitty were discussing something in depth. The other X-Men were scattered about, most of them just sitting and thinking, especially Hank who had gone through one hell of a ringer that night.   
  
He cleared his throat. "Hey, everyone. Listen up." His teammates all looked at him, with varying degrees of curiosity and confusion. He could sense Storm getting ready to protest, so he continued quickly. "I'm takin' the woman standin' next to me upstairs, and you prob'ly won't see us 'til tomorrow. Anybody got a problem with that?"   
  
Storm covered her face with her hands. "I can't believe this is happening…"  
  
Scott was the first and only person to say anything. "Have fun."   
  
Logan looked back at her. "Are you comin'? Or is it your turn to be restrained?"  
  
Twin spots of pink appeared on her coffee-colored cheeks. She was going to get him for this. Someday, somehow. But for now…  
  
As soon as the newly-formed couple had left, heading for the stairs and the first room they could find, Kitty looked at Bobby. "It was public. Pay up."  
  
****  
  
"Ah think yer gonna have to repeat that one more time, sugah. Maybe two times."   
  
Remy nodded. "Gambit understand. It be a'lot t'take in, chere. But it don' come out'o now'ere. Been t'inkin' 'bout dis a long time."  
  
"When?" Rogue looked at him, incredulously. "When did ya have the time to think 'bout it? When ya were tryin' to stay alive in Antarctica? Or in the past two weeks when Ah'd barely talk to ya?"   
  
"Ma petit chou…I t'ink 'bout dis from de first time I saw you."   
  
She shook her head. "Ah don't…Ah don't have any idea what to say."  
  
"Why don' you just say 'oui'?"  
  
"Because!" Rogue struggled to sit up. "There's all kinda stuff to be considered! I mean, for starters…"  
  
Remy put his hands on her shoulders. "Hey, hey. Lie back, chere. You got t'take care o' yourself better from now on. Don' need t'be workin' yourself up."   
  
She complied; it was, perhaps, the first recorded instance of her doing anything he suggested without a fight. "For starters, Remy…ya know we can't ever have what we had that nigh'. So, why would ya want to…"  
  
"Dere be more t'us den sex," he cut her off. "May not seem true, but Gambit can get by wit'out sex. He can't get by wit'out you."   
  
"But…" Rogue's eyes darted back and forth between his. "What happens when ya wake up one day wantin' it?"   
  
His smile was wicked. "You never let me show you my creative side, chere. Dere be t'ing's we can do dat would make your whole body blush."   
  
Just the thought was enough to start that flush. She touched her hot cheek. "Remy. Ya can't be serious 'bout this."  
  
He frowned. "Why you t'ink dat? 'Cause dere be not'in' in dis thief's pockets but playin' cards an' a folded-up stick? If Gambit went out an' stole you a ring, would you believe him?" Remy sat on the edge of the exam table. "Listen, chere. I grew up on de bayou, but dat not where I born. I had a maman and papa. Don' know where dey are now, an' I don' much care. But I don' ever want my bébé…or bébés…t'not know me."  
  
"Ah'd never let that happen. But that doesn' mean we gotta…"  
  
"Marry me, ma belle. Not 'cause you got to…but 'cause you want to."  
  
Rogue swallowed back a heavy lump that signaled the onslaught of more tears. "Why can't Ah ever say 'no' to you, swamp rat?"  
  
****  
  
To Be Continued 


	6. Secret separation

Disclaimer: None of the characters contained within belong to me.   
  
Author's Notes: Muchos gracias for all the sweet, wonderful, kind reviews. I'm very much psyched that people are enjoying the story. Um...I don't really have too much to say, but I'll probably think of a hundred things in a few minutes. I guess I'll just let you get to the reading. Enjoy!!  
  
****  
  
Unexpected  
  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
"What am Ah doin' here?"   
  
Storm pulled three straight pins out of her mouth before she replied, "Beginning to get on my nerves. But in a good way." She stood up. "Turn around, Rogue."  
  
The woman clad in a half-finished creation of white cotton and pale rose organdy did as she was asked, but only because her thoughts were anywhere but on the first fitting of her what would be her wedding dress. "Ah'm not entirely sure this isn' some crazy dream."  
  
"Nightmare." Kneeling, Storm checked the hem of the gown's full, maternity skirt. It was uneven. "Definitely a nightmare."   
  
Rogue continued as if she hadn't even heard. "Ah just woke up this mornin' and Ah realized…Ah'm gettin' married in a week." She covered her swollen belly with both hands. Six months pregnant, she felt like a beached whale masquerading as a bride.   
  
Jubilee danced over to her with the tiara of her veil, woven out of seed pearls and tiny, pink silk flowers. "What do you think?" she asked, holding it out. "It's going to look so amazing against your hair."   
  
"Maybe Remy and Ah rushed into this too fast or somethin'," Rogue said without looking at the headpiece.   
  
"Do you really think that, Rogue?" Storm asked, brushing hair out of her eyes in exasperation.   
  
The bride-to-be raised her shoulders. "Ah don't know what Ah think. Actually…that's not true. One thing Ah can't stop thinkin' 'bout…" She looked down at her hands. A fourteen-carat diamond solitaire, obtained by questionable means, graced the third finger of her left hand. It really didn't seem like all that much time had passed since he returned from a two-day trip to New Orleans with it; she still wasn't accustomed to seeing it shine in the light, or putting it over her gloves so it wasn't hidden from the world. "Ah can't stop thinkin'…that by marryin' me, he's throwin' away any chance he's got to be in a normal relationship."  
  
Jubilee looked at the two women. "Is this a conversation I can stick around for, or do I have to leave?"  
  
Storm stood up and handed the young girl the pins, a silent order to take over her job. "Rogue, I think that if any of us ever desire a normal relationship, we should stop dreaming immediately and accept reality. We do not lead normal lives. 'Normal' in reference to relationships, therefore, becomes subjective."  
  
"But you an' Jean an' Kitty, an' even you someday, Jubes…ya'll can get a'lot more normal then Ah can, an' ya know what Ah mean by that." Rogue gave her a look. "Or are ya tellin' me Logan's just helpin' ya water yer plants every nigh'?"  
  
"Sometimes he does." Storm picked up the tiara that Jubilee had discarded. "You must stop thinking that epitome of any relationship is lovemaking. Yes, it is a wonderful thing, but it is not the only thing. I would much rather be in a celibate relationship with a man who I know is in love with me, as Remy clearly is with you, than in a passionate affair with a man who is completely ambiguous about his feelings."  
  
Rogue frowned. "Big words, sugah. An' Ah got baby-brain. Is somethin' wrong that ya wanna talk 'bout?"  
  
"The discussion is about you, Rogue, not me." Storm took the tiara and settled onto Rogue's thick, bi-colored curls. "When you marry him on Saturday, you must know that he is marrying you because he wants to spend his life with you, not because of what you can or can't do for him physically." She stepped back. "And you were right, Jubilee. That does look amazing on her."   
  
"It'll be even better with the veil attached. Jean's supposed to be buying more material in town." Jubilee tugged on the hem. "Why won't this thing lie straight?!"  
  
"Could've somethin' to do with the big ol' watermelon Ah'm cartin' 'round, sugah." Rogue rubbed her stomach. "Hey! Put yer hand righ' here."   
  
Jubilee complied, letting Rogue move her fingers into the right spot. She held her breath, waiting. So far, it seemed like everyone in the mansion had gotten to feel the baby kick, except for her. The child always managed to quit just before Jubilee's turn.   
  
But today, she felt it, movement just below her palm. "Oh my god!! It's alive!!"   
  
Rogue put her troubled thoughts on hold and laughed. "It reminds me of that fact every nigh' when Ah'm tryin' to get to sleep."   
  
Jubilee put her other hand over the older woman's stomach and, still kneeling, aligned her ear with the baby as well. "This is beyond cool, Rogue. This is so fu…" She stopped. "Wait, it can't hear me, can it?"  
  
"Technically, yes," Storm answered. "But it won't be able to remember what it hears."  
  
"When are we going to know if it's a boy or a girl?"   
  
"When it comes out," Rogue replied. "Hank knows 'cause he's seen the sonograms, but Ah swore him to secrecy, so don' even think 'bout buggin' him. Remy an' Ah wanna be surprised. Although…" She smiled to herself. "Ah think he really wants it to be a girl. Nothin' wrong with boys, but Ah wouldn' mind a daughter, either. But just so long as everythin' goes smoothly, it doesn' really matter."   
  
Jubilee looked up at her. "Only another month, right?"  
  
Rogue nodded. "That's what Hank said. He said the baby'd be able to survive induced labor, even bein' that little. But Ah'm still not lookin' forward to it. Ah just wish Ah could do everythin' normal. Like everybody else."  
  
"There is no such thing as normal," Storm said, sagely.   
  
"Easy for ya to say, sugah." The retort was as good-natured as possible, but after a moment, Rogue took Jubilee's hand again, only this time as an anchor. With the girl's help, she stepped down from the low platform she'd been standing on for the fitting. "Ah'm gonna change an' lie down for a bit." A scowl spread across her face. "Couple o' months ago, Ah only needed a few minutes o' sleep after takin' down an army o' Sentinels. Now Ah gotta nap 'tween meals." She started towards her closet door. "If you'n Logan decide to have kids, consider adoptin' if ya wanna keep up with the team, too."   
  
Storm began replacing all the sewing supplies into their proper places within her kit. "I do not see that becoming a issue in the near future." She snapped the lid into place. "Neither Logan nor I are in a position to take on such an enormous responsibility."   
  
Jubilee gave her a thorough look. "Wolvie's good with kids, even if he doesn't show it." When Storm didn't reply, she pointed at the door. "I'm just gonna get goin'. Rogue…see ya later!"  
  
"Bye, sugah," was the muffled reply from the depths of the closet. "An' thanks!" When Rogue emerged a moment later, much more comfortable dressed in a pair of stretchy black pants and one of Remy's shirts, buttoned enough to cover her breasts, but unbuttoned to accommodate her stomach. "All righ'. What's goin' on?"  
  
Storm looked down at the sewing kit to avoid the other woman's eyes. "He doesn't love me, Rogue." She looked back up. "We have amazing, mind-blowing sex, but that's it. So, next time Remy's holding you and telling you he loves you, knowing that he'll never even be able to kiss you, just remember…it could be worse."   
  
"Ro…Ah…"  
  
The other woman shook her head. Outside, a bolt of lightning struck, making them both jump. "No, I apologize. It's not your fault." After a pause, she smiled at Rogue. "The dress is going to be lovely. The entire wedding will be, in fact. But more than that, the marriage itself will be, whether its what other people would consider normal or not." Storm picked up the sewing kit. "Get some sleep before Remy gets back from town. He's been worried about you."  
  
Rogue swallowed. "He's always worryin' 'bout me."  
  
"The very definition of love," she said softly. Another moment passed. "See you at dinner."  
  
The door closed gently behind her just as it began to pour outside. Rogue walked to the window and pushed it open, indulging in the cool mist of the rain for a moment before walking back to the bed in which she spent most nights with Remy. That was a new development; the old-fashioned gal inside her had wanted to wait to start sleeping together until they were married and settled in the boathouse. But he wanted to be there for her if she needed him at all during the night. And, she couldn't help but admit, falling asleep and waking up nestled against his chest was worth having to ensure that every inch of their skin was covered at all times.   
  
She lay down and wrapped her arms around her unborn child. "Maybe Storm's righ'," she whispered. "Ah should just stop worryin'. Yer daddy loves us…an' maybe he's a fool for it." Her smile was sleepy. "But he's our fool."  
  
****  
  
"It need t'be somet'in' dat says...'I plan on lovin' you 'til I breathe no more.'"   
  
Leaning against the glass and gold counter, Jean pointed to a particular item behind the casing. "What about that one?"   
  
Remy followed her finger. The diamond pendant was beautiful and would have been perfect...if he had fifteen thousand dollars to spend. "Dat say, 'I plan on payin' for dis 'til I breathe no more." He shook his head. "Maybe...I could just be borrowin' it..."   
  
His shopping companion slapped his wrist lightly. "The entire point of coming here was for you to *buy* Rogue a gift. Now, I'm as jealous as any of us over her engagement ring, but...and I don't mean to sound judgmental here...I bet I wouldn't find a receipt for it anywhere, would I?"   
  
"Go easy on dis t'ief," Remy said, holding up his hands. "'Sides, de lady who...donated her ring t'my bride had a box o' rings just like it. I don' t'ink she even missin' it yet." His red-in-black eyes scanned the long display case. "W'at you t'ink 'bout dat one, chere?"   
  
Jean squinted to see past the glare off the glass. What she saw was a simple, but elegant gold locket in the shape of a delicate heart. The tag attached to it was much more in the proper price range. She straightened back up. "Remy...I think it's perfect."   
  
He flagged down the sales clerk. "Pardon moi." Remy pointed to the necklace. "Can you be takin' dat out for me, mademoiselle?"  
  
The girl looked at him for a second; Remy suddenly wished he'd remembered to put on his sunglasses. Finally, she nodded and with her ring of keys, opened the display case. "Here you go." She lifted the necklace out. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"   
  
"Dat it is."   
  
"Is it for a special occasion? We do gift-wrapping."   
  
Remy examined the locket closely. Real gold and a tiny emerald chip in the very center that was the exact same color as Rogue's eyes. "It for a special lady. But…I t'ink just a box be fine, chere." He winked at the girl.   
  
"Whatever you say." With the necklace in her hand, the sales clerk turned to head into the back room. Had either Jean or Remy been able to see her eyes, they might have seen the flash of yellow that went as quickly as it came.  
  
****  
  
A few hours later, he returned to the mansion with Jean, nine hundred dollars poorer, but feeling like the richest man on earth. With the velvet box safely tucked into his brown coat, Remy made his way up the stairs to wake Rogue for dinner.   
  
He almost knocked before entering, but then remembered that he wasn't a stranger in her room anymore. Sometimes, he didn't quite believe it. He was sharing a room with Rogue almost every night. She'd agreed to marry him in a week's time. They were going to have a baby. When he thought about all the good turns his life had suddenly taken, it was very easy to forget the fact that he might never be allowed to touch her again.   
  
In fact, it didn't even seem to matter until he entered the room and saw her lying on the double-bed, sleeping serenely. Remy quietly closed the door; the baby had been keeping her up at night. Any sleep she managed to get needed to be preserved. He crossed to the bed and gingerly climbed onto it, aligning his body behind hers. She didn't wake, she just let him spoon up behind her and fold her up in his arms.   
  
This was when it mattered. When his cheek rested on her silk curls and he was surrounded by her scent, and all he wanted to do was touch her just for a moment. No, not even a whole moment. A fraction of a moment would have been enough.   
  
Remy shook his head. That was a lie. If he were given that fraction of a moment, he'd want another, and then another, and then he wouldn't be able to stop. His addiction was too great. He closed his eyes and pulled her back tighter against his chest.   
  
She murmured his name in her sleep. "Shh, ma belle," he whispered, moving his hand around her body and down to the swell of her belly. "You, too, mon bébé précieux." The child moved, responding, as it always did, to his voice. "Keep dat up an' you be wakin' your maman."   
  
"Too late," Rogue breathed. Still half-asleep, she turned her neck to see him. "How long have Ah been asleep?"  
  
"Don' know, chere. I only just got back." He kissed the hair at her temple. "It almos' dinner time, t'ough."   
  
She yawned and stretched slightly, nestling back against his chest. "Can we just stay here, sugah? Ah'm not all that hungry."   
  
"Dere ain' no hurry," he assured her.   
  
They lay still, holding each other for a few comfortable minutes, until Rogue spoke. "Are ya gettin' nervous yet?  
  
"Been dere for awhile, chere."   
  
She smiled, strangely relieved. "Ah was 'fraid it was only me."   
  
Remy lightly rubbed his hand in circles around her stomach. "Don' mean Gambit can't wait t'see you at de end o' dat aisle, ma belle."   
  
"Ah know what ya mean." She hesitated. "Were ya nervous when ya married Belladonna?"  
  
"Diff'rent kind o' nervous," he finally replied after what seemed like an eternity to her.   
  
Rogue waited for him to go on as long as she could before she pressed on, "How so, sugah?"  
  
In the weak light of dusk, Remy sat up on the bed and ran a hand through his hair. "Wit' her…Gambit got no choice in de matter."  
  
"But…Ah though' ya loved her."  
  
"Oui, ma belle. But Gambit learn…dere diff'rent kinds o' love, too. I only love her like an enfant…a boy. If Gambit not been forced, dere not be any marriage back den."   
  
Rogue licked the corner of her lip and sat up as much as she could. "An' now?"  
  
He looked back at her. "I marry you 'cause I decide, chere." Remy scratched the back of his head. "Gambit nervous…'cause he just is. No real reason. Migh' be too much happiness. He not used to it just yet."   
  
"Ah'm not either." She reached out and ran a hand down his back, urging him to turn around and face her. "Ah keep waitin' for the other shoe to drop or somethin'."   
  
"Dere no ot'er shoe," he said, shifting onto his knees to see her better. "Dere only gonna be happy from now on, chere. Better get friendly wit' it."   
  
Rogue cupped his face in her gloved hands. "Ah love ya." She bit back her doubts, trying very hard to believe that she deserved this moment. Deserved the way he was looking at her with his one-of-a-kind eyes. "Ah love ya so much, swamp rat." She ran her thumb across his lips. "An' Ah'm gonna marry ya on Saturday."  
  
"I know, ma belle. O'terwise dere wouldn' be a tuxedo hangin' up in de closet o' de boathouse." There was a torturous pause as they stared at each other, only inches, but miles apart. Remy broke the stare, looking away before he just kissed her and accepted the coma that would follow. "Hungry now, chere?"  
  
She shook her head. "But go ahead. Ah kinda…wanna be alone for awhile."  
  
"I save a plate for you," he promised, getting off the bed. Remy looked at her for a minute. "Worryin' don' do no good, chere, so don' do it, oui? De hard t'ings…we work dem out."   
  
Rogue glanced down at her rounded stomach. "Sure, sugah. We'll work 'em out."   
  
He left a second later, the door quietly shutting behind him. Rogue turned onto her other side and lay back down. The baby squirmed, trying to adjust to the new position as well. She closed her eyes, and tried to drift back to sleep.   
  
It didn't seem like long before she sensed someone standing over her. Rogue opened one eye, and smiled weakly. "Ah told ya Ah wanted to be alone, sugah."   
  
Remy smiled. "Since w'en do I care w'at you want?"  
  
"Um…" Her smile turned into a frown. "What the hell does that mean?"  
  
He sat on the edge of the bed and reached out to comb his fingers through her hair. "Bébé…" he crooned. "Just close dose eyes."  
  
Rogue's frown grew deeper. "Ye've never called me that, Remy." She slid her arm across her stomach. "Is everythin' all…" She stopped when she saw the gleam of metal; he pulled the object out of his pocket and before she could do anything, he'd stabbed the long needle into her neck. "Oh my god…" Her eyes dropped; she felt her muscles go slack. "Can't be…"  
  
The last thing she saw before the darkness closed in was the transformation. Inch by inch, Remy was replaced by the one woman she thought she'd never see again.   
  
"Sleep, child," Mystique told her in a low, smooth voice. "There's someone who wants to talk to you."  
  
****  
  
"…and voila!!" Jubilee handed him his napkin, now in the shape of a very triangular hat. "This is the kind of stuff you can only learn at the kid's table."  
  
Remy took the napkin-hat and turned it over and around in his hands. "Gambit learned how t'crack combination safe locks at de kid's table, petit." He placed her work of art on his head. "Dis almos' as much fun."   
  
On the other side of the long, adult's table, Hank shook his head, setting down his water glass. "A good, if somewhat odd look for you, my friend."   
  
"You should wear that to the wedding," Bobby spoke up, stabbing a piece of steak with his fork. "Rogue'd love it."   
  
"Speaking of Rogue," Scott said. "Where is she?"   
  
"Ah'm righ' here, sugah." She appeared in the doorway from the hall, one hand on her belly and the other on her hip. "Ya'll talkin' 'bout me?"  
  
Remy stood up. "I was 'bout to tell dem you be tired, chere."  
  
"Not tired." Rogue scanned the people gathered around the table. "Where's Logan?"  
  
"Wherever Storm is," Kitty snickered. "Is the house shaking?"   
  
Jean shook her head. "They went into town for dinner, Rogue."  
  
The southern woman smiled, almost relieved. "Good. For them, Ah mean." She moved towards the empty seat next to Remy. "Ah'm starved!"   
  
"We figure de bébé gonna have one hell o' an appetite," he said, pulling out the chair for her. "Righ', chere?"  
  
Rogue turned her face up and gave him a sweet smile. "Whatever ya say."  
  
****  
  
To Be Continued 


	7. With or without you

Disclaimer: Characters do not belong to me; I only play with them during my spare time.  
  
Author's Notes: Thank ya'll, again, so much for the kind words. Your support means a lot. I hope you keep reading and enjoying, no matter what happens;)   
  
****  
  
Unexpected   
  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
"Whatever we deny or embrace  
  
For worse or for better  
  
We belong, we belong  
  
We belong together."  
  
-Pat Benatar  
  
****  
  
"Chere." Remy rapped lightly on the bathroom door. "You ever comin' out o' dere?" Upon receiving no reply, he knocked again. "Ma chere...everyt'ing all righ'? You been real quiet since dinner."  
  
A moment later, she finally replied, "Ah'm fine, Gambit. Remy. Ah'm just tired. Ah think Ah'm gonna go to sleep."  
  
He blinked. "In dere? Ma belle...sleep be a bit more comf'table in de bed." After what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was only twenty minutes after she'd disappeared into the bathroom, Rogue opened the door and stepped out, looking up at him with the green eyes he adored so much. "Come on, chere." He held out his hand to her.   
  
"Actually...Ah was thinkin' Ah'd like to sleep by myself tonigh'. If ya don' mind."   
  
Remy paused with his arm outstretched. "Chere?"  
  
"Ah mean," Rogue continued, making her way over to the bed with one hand on her protruding stomach. "It ain' like we don' got our whole lives to sleep together, sugah."  
  
"Oui." He lowered his arm. "'Course, chere. If dat be w'at you want...I sleep in de boathouse."  
  
"That's what Ah want." She slid into bed and neatly arranged the covers around herself. "Close the door on yer way out."   
  
Remy stood still for a second, looking extremely confused in his long-sleeved cotton shirt and navy blue pajama pants. Finally, he started to the door, but paused when his hand touched the brass knob. He glanced back at her. "Bonne nuit, ma belle."  
  
Once in the hallway, he stopped to consider what had just happened. He'd been kicked out for the night. He frowned. It didn't feel good. Remy kicked the edge of the oriental carpet with his bare foot. So, she wanted a night alone. That certainly wasn't a crime. And she was right, they did have the rest of their lives to fall asleep and wake up together.   
  
Still, something about it bothered him.  
  
He'd intended to go straight to the boathouse, but he found himself walking the opposite direction, heading for Storm's bedroom. Along the short path, he sensed movement in the shadows created by the hallway's nooks and crannies. Squinting, he tried to identify the source of it. When he saw Bobby concealing himself in the darkness, he addressed him, "Dere be a game o' hide n' seek goin' on?"  
  
The blond man paled, but stepped into the weak light of the moon that streamed in from one floor-to-ceiling window. "Um...of course not. I was just heading...downstairs. For a glass of...um...water, and I..."  
  
A door a few feet down from where they stood opened, spilling bright yellow light into the hall. Kitty stepped out into it and looked around until she spotted them. "Bobby, you're late...oh, my god. Gambit!" She crossed her arms over her barely-there nightgown. "Um...hi."  
  
Clearing his throat, Bobby gave the Cajun man a look. "Can you be discreet about this?"  
  
Trying to keep from laughing, Remy raised both of his hands into the air. "Gambit be de sole o' tact, mes amis." Tipping an imaginary hat at them, he winked. "Have a *very* bonne nuit."   
  
When Kitty's door closed, leaving him alone in the hallway, he continued on his path until he found himself standing in front of Storm's door. He knocked once, then twice, then three times. "Stormy? You be in dere?"  
  
He raised his hand for a fourth knock, but the door suddenly opened a crack. He couldn't see all of her, but he could tell that she was still tying the sash on her robe as she spoke. "Remy? What are you doing here? Do you know what time it is?"  
  
"I know, chere. An' Gambit sorry." He hesitated. "It be 'bout Rogue."  
  
Storm looked over her shoulder for a second. "All right. Come in."  
  
As soon as he entered, he wanted to turn right back around and leave. Logan lounged in Storm's bed, propped up against the headboard in nothing but a pair of faded jeans with the top button undone. Remy shook his head, muttering an amused curse in French. "Dis be de horniest house in de state."  
  
"No wonder you keep coming back here, bub." Logan scratched his ribs. "Wanna tells us why you're bargin' in like this?"  
  
Storm closed the door. "Is something wrong with Rogue?"  
  
"Dat be Gambit's question."   
  
After he relayed the events that had led up to his appearance at Storm's door after midnight in his sleep clothes, Logan snorted. "That's it? She kicked you out of bed for one night, and it's the end of the world?"  
  
Remy pointedly ignored him. "Has she talked t'you, chere? Said anyt'ing 'bout w'at she be feelin'?"  
  
The weather goddess sat on the edge of her bed and primly crossed her legs. "I don't know, Remy."  
  
"Sil vous plait."  
  
"She's worried, Remy," Storm finally told him. "She loves you so much that she wants to give you everything. But she knows that she can't. And she's afraid you're throwing away your sexuality."  
  
Remy cursed again, this time much more sharply. "How many time do Gambit have t'tell dat femme dat he don' care 'bout de sex?!"  
  
Logan gave him a thorough look. "Yeah, right."  
  
"Hey!" Storm stood up to keep Remy from charging her lover. "Stop it. Both of you."  
  
The Cajun man's eyes flashed dangerously. "W'at more can Gambit do?"  
  
"She's asked for some space tonight." She put a sympathetic hand on his broad shoulder. "If that's all she needs, just give to her. We all will...until she's ready. Okay?"  
  
He sighed, scrubbed both palms down his face, and nodded. "Oui." After a second, he took Storm's hand and brought the back of it up to his lips. "Merci, chere."  
  
"Anytime, Remy," she called out as he headed for the door. "Goodnight...it'll all work out. You'll see." When the door closed behind him, Storm turned and glared at Logan.  
  
"What?" he asked, as innocent as he could get.   
  
"You know what."  
  
He swung his legs over the side of the bed. "He's your friend, darlin', not mine."  
  
"Regardless, you don't have to egg him on. Rogue loves him. If you can't go easy on him for my sake, will you at least do it for hers?"   
  
"Depends." Logan stood up and advanced on her. "What's in it for me?" She had no chance to reply; his mouth had already found the notch at the base of her throat, and his hands were tangled in her hair. She was just about to give in to the delicious sensation, when he stopped and lifted his head.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
He sniffed the air. "Don't know." Sniffing again, he said, "Thought I smelled something..."  
  
"I borrowed a perfume from Jean." Storm shook her head and looked away. "Trust you to pick up on that."  
  
"It's not you. Must've been somethin' on the Cajun." He rotated his shoulders. "Weird." His attention returned to her. "Where was I?"   
  
Storm forgot about their fight entirely when he picked her up and carried her back to the bed. Nothing more was said about Remy or Rogue or anyone else for the rest of the night.  
  
****  
  
The first thing she felt was cold. Frowning, Rogue rolled to her other side, fully expecting to come up against the solid warmth of Remy's body in the bed next to her. But all she encountered was more empty space. She opened one eye. Instead of her pillows, nightstand and flowered wallpaper, she saw nothing but grey rocks. "Where am Ah?"  
  
"You're safe. And you're amongst friends," a man replied. "Not many of our kind can say the same."  
  
She recognized the evangelical words before she even picked up on the voice. Rogue blinked several times. "Still preachin' to the choir, sugah?"  
  
The man called Magento stepped out from the shadows, his cape sweeping the ground with each step. "Are you back in the choir, my dear? At last check, your loyalties were still misplaced with Charles and his do-gooders."  
  
"My loyalties lie with people who deserve 'em." She struggled to sit up and see over her stomach. "With my friends."  
  
He let it go for the moment. "Look at you. You're radiant." His voice grew hard. "Even carrying that bastard's bastard."  
  
Rogue's eyes narrowed into thin slits. "Speakin' 'bout bastards, what do ya want with me?"  
  
"Didn't your mother tell you? I only want to talk to you."  
  
"Mystique ain' my momma."  
  
Eric lifted his shoulders. "Semantics, Rogue. Only semantics." He knelt down a few feet away from her. "You turned your back on her. And I think it actually hurt her."  
  
"Should Ah care?"  
  
"That's between you and Mystique." He considered her from a distance. "I suppose you're wondering why I've gone to so much trouble just to talk to you."  
  
"Ye've always liked the dramatics."  
  
"Seeing you at your Gambit's trial..." The older man pressed the tips of his fingers together. "I realized something."  
  
"That yer a heartless excuse for a man?"  
  
The corners of his mouth turned up wryly. "I want you back with me, Rogue."  
  
She stared at him, slack-jawed. "It's finally happened, sugah. All those years of messin' with everyone else's heads...an' all that crazy power ya got goin'...it's finally driven ya crazy."  
  
"I had a feeling you'd say something like that."  
  
"What did ya 'spect me to say?! After what ya did to me and Remy...what ya made me do to him?!" Rogue raised herself up on tightly balled fists. "Did ya think Ah'd just shake my head an' go, 'that silly, sentimental Magneto...he's just nutty like that...an' Ah can' wait to get back to doin' his dirty work'?!?" The baby kicked in protest of all the adrenaline rushing through her system. "Ah hate ya," she spat at him.   
  
Eric stood, almost sadly. "There was a time when you didn't."  
  
"There was a time when Ah hated the rest o' the world so much that ya seemed okay in comparison," she corrected him. "Now...here's what yer gonna do. Yer gonna let me go 'fore every X-Man who's able comes here lookin' for me. An' ya know they will...'specially that 'bastard' as ya call him."  
  
"No, they won't." He shook his head. "They really, really won't."  
  
Some of the bravado left her voice. "An' why's that?"  
  
"Because." He knelt again, only this time directly next to her on the blanket she'd been laid upon while she slept. "They have no idea that you're missing, my dear. Mystique is taking your place for a little while. But don't worry. She doesn't have any designs on your Cajun. In fact, she's not too thrilled with what he's done to you." Eric reached out to touch her stomach. "Or maybe she just hasn't warmed up to the idea of being a grandmother."  
  
Rogue grabbed at his hand. "Don't touch my..." She froze when her bare skin came into full contact with his...but she felt nothing of the dreaded draining sensation.  
  
"The cave," he answered her unspoken question, tilting his chin up to look at the rock formation that surrounded them. "We're under the same dampening field that allowed this..." Eric ignored her command and placed his hand on her rounded belly. "...to happen." His voice was cold as he continued, "Do you know how difficult that night was for me? Knowing what you were letting him do to you here? His hands on what's mine...what's always been mine. It was unbearable."  
  
Rogue shook her head. "Yer nuts," she whispered. "An' Ah'm not yers. Never have been."  
  
"But are you his? Rogue..." He took her chin in his bare grip. "What can he give you? Nothing, except maybe a stolen trinket or two. He can't give the physical pleasure that you deserve. You're so full of passion and life...he'll drain that all away from you. And while you're at home, darning his socks, he'll be out finding his own pleasure."  
  
She jerked her head away from him. "Ya don' know him at all."  
  
"I know him well enough to know that I'm far better for you." Eric took her hand. "If you return to me, Rogue, I can give you everything you deserve. Here, with me, you can touch others. You can be touched. With my technology, you'll be able to touch your baby." His smile was smug, knowing he'd hit a deep-seeded maternal instinct with that. Rogue immediately looked down at her lap with a little muffled cry. "Don't you want that, my dear? To be able to hold your baby, give it a bath, feed it from your own breasts. All the things normal mothers take for granted. I can give you all of that." He pressed a kiss into the center of her palm. "Just tell me...is that what you want?"  
  
Rogue lifted her head, her emerald eyes brimming over with tears. "Yeah. That's what Ah want."  
  
****  
  
After three nights of sleeping by himself in the lonely double-bed of Xavier's boathouse, Remy was going stir-crazy. He woke up every morning with his arm thrown over his forehead, his entire body annoyingly stiff as he tried to ward off the remnants of his dreams. When the images of Rogue thrashing about underneath him wouldn't go away by sheer willpower, a cold shower was in order, allowing him to be presentable at the breakfast table.   
  
Not that she was ever there; she preferred to take her meals alone in her room. She was isolating herself and everyone knew it, even if they didn't say anything out loud whenever Remy was within hearing distance. The wedding was still on; preparations hadn't stopped yet. But the bride and groom hadn't been seen together in days.   
  
This was very much on Remy's mind as he stormed into the mansion on the morning of the fourth day, seventy-two hours before he was supposed to get married. The first thing he saw was Jubilee heading up the stairs with a tray of food in her hands.   
  
"Petit," he called out to her. "You takin' dat to her?"  
  
She carefully turned and nodded. "She's feelin' kind of tired. Again."   
  
Remy climbed a few steps. "Let Gambit take it to her." He took the tray from her. "Merci."   
  
Somehow, he managed to make it to her room and knock while balancing the tray on one hand. "C'mon in, Jubilee," she called out.   
  
He stepped inside. "Room service, chere."  
  
She was sitting upright in bed, flipping through a few of her bridal magazines with obvious disdain. Her head shot up upon hearing his voice instead of Jubilee's. "Gambit! Ah mean..."  
  
"Dat be de second time you call me dat, chere." Remy set the tray down onto her dresser. "Now...I been patient. I give you de space you need. But Gambit no saint, ma belle. If dere somet'ing dat need to be said...you know we don' keep secrets no more. So, say it now."   
  
Rogue licked her bottom lip, closed her magazine and tossed it aside. "All righ', sugah. Since ya brough' it up." She stood up, frustrated when she couldn't get it right on the first try. After heaving herself into a standing position, she put her hands on her hips. "See that? Ah'm so fat, Ah can't even barely get up anymore. See what ya did to me?"  
  
He frowned. "Chere...w'at be wrong wit' you?"  
  
"Ya wanna know?" She laughed. "Where should Ah start? Let's see. First off...ya knock me up 'cause ya couldn' keep your britches buttoned in the five minutes ya had when ya could touch me. Now ya claim to wanna marry me, but everyone knows those're vows ya just won' be able to keep. 'Cause look at yerself...yer a man born an' bred for sex. Remy Lebeau bein' celibate is like a cow not makin' milk. It just ain' in yer nature. So, all this is just leadin' up to ya breakin' my heart, Cajun boy, an' Ah'm not just gonna sit 'round an' let it happen...to me. Ah figure Ah'll cut it off at the pass."  
  
Remy's next words were stone cold. "W'at you sayin'? You callin' off de weddin'?"  
  
"For starters," she replied.   
  
Silence cloaked the room for an indescribably long period of time. He couldn't make what she was saying go away, no matter how hard he tried to block it all out. He squeezed his eyes shut and balled up his fists. After a second, he released them and looked at her. "All Gambit ever want t'do is love you, ma belle. But now..." He stopped. "W'at's dat 'round your neck?"  
  
Rogue looked down at the gold heart with the emerald center. "The only thing ya haven't had to steal for me."   
  
Remy's mind raced. In his pocket, he could still feel the velvet box that held the necklace he'd bought for her on the day everything started to go downhill. He'd never had a chance to give it to her...but there it was, suspended from its delicate chain around her neck.   
  
As smoothly as possible, Remy reached into his coat and withdrew the box. Part of him hoped he'd open it and find it was empty. But the other half wondered....  
  
When he showed her the necklace that still lay within its velvet nest, the blood rushed from her face. Remy looked back up at her, deadly calm. "Who de fuck are you...an' w'ere is my bride?"  
  
****  
  
To Be Continued  
  
A/N: I really don't know all that much about Rogue and Magento's relationship, except the barest details, and even less about Joseph. So, I just wrote this the way it came to me in my head, knowing what little I did know. Sorry if I didn't get things right:( I tried.  
  
Kristen 


	8. Breaking us in two

Disclaimer: Characters still don't belong to me.   
  
Author's Notes: Many more thanks for all the reviews and support. Although I've set my story in the comic book universe, there are certain things I really liked within the movieverse, and one of those things was their interpretation of Cerebro. Just bear this in mind as you're reading:) Thanks and enjoy!  
  
****  
  
Unexpected  
  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
Logan woke up to someone screaming in French. He lifted his head from the pillow of Storm's white locks, his senses on overdrive.   
  
"What is it?" the half-asleep woman next to him said.  
  
"Shh." He pushed back the covers and got up carefully, as not to disturb her further. "Stay here; I'll be back."   
  
After pulling on his discarded jeans, he stepped out into the hallway. His ears, so highly attuned to things no one else could hear, led him down the hallway. French wasn't one of his better languages, but he knew enough to know that the words were not friendly.   
  
And there was only one person who could be flinging them about so carelessly.  
  
When he realized the argument was stemming from Rogue's room, Logan snarled and unsheathed his claws. If the Cajun thought he could get away with yelling at his fiancé like that, he had another thought coming…and Logan intended to give it to him.   
  
Without stopping to consider anything, Logan kicked Rogue's door open. If there was anyone still asleep in the house, they surely wouldn't be now. He entered the room, prepared for anything. What he saw was Rogue backed up against her closet door and Gambit holding three charged playing cards in between the fingers of his right hand.   
  
Remy turned his head upon hearing the wood splinter. Dismissing the shorter man entirely, his attention immediately whipped back to the pregnant woman. "Gambit only ask one more time. W'at you do wit' my Rogue?!"  
  
Logan frowned. Before he could say anything, Rogue looked at him, wild fear in her eyes. "Logan! Help me…he's gone crazy!"  
  
"Don' listen t'her, mon ami," Remy growled. "Dat not her."  
  
Rogue shook her head. "Logan, please!" She put her hands on her stomach. "Ah'm 'fraid he's gonna hurt the baby!"  
  
"De bébé…" The Cajun man's murderous expression became even darker. "If anyt'ing happen to it…dere gonna be pickin' up de pieces o' you for weeks!"  
  
"Listen to him!" She reached out one hand towards Logan. "Do somethin', sugah!!"  
  
Logan stepped forward, but he was once again cut off before he could do or say anything, this time by the appearance of Bobby, Kitty and Storm. "What the hell?" Bobby said, pushing to the front. "Gambit…what the fuck do you think you're doing?!"  
  
"Oh my god!" Kitty put her hand to her throat. "Rogue, are you okay?"  
  
Storm made a motion to approach her friend. "Remy…calm down. Whatever it is, I know we can work it out. Just put the cards down."  
  
Remy's raging eyes slammed into each of them in turn. "Don' you see…don' you know who dat is?? It be…"  
  
Logan wasted no time charging the cowering pregnant woman; within seconds, she had three adamantium claws pointed at her throat. "Mystique."  
  
"Oh my god," Kitty repeated.   
  
"Have you both gone crazy?" Bobby looked back and forth between Logan and Remy. "Just what…"  
  
Storm put up her hand. "Quiet."  
  
"Show 'em," Logan ordered. After a second, he moved the razor sharp tips of his claws closer to her skin. "Show 'em now!"  
  
The Rogue look-alike licked her lips, nervously glancing around as though searching for an escape route. When nothing presented itself, she looked Logan straight in the eye and smiled. "Ya really are more animal than human." As she said the words, Rogue's body melted into that of the woman who had raised her. "But that's long been established."  
  
Remy withdrew the charge on his cards; two of them fluttered to the ground. "W'at you done wit' my Rogue?" he asked. The uncontrollable rage had dropped also; his words were raw with worry.   
  
Mystique regarded him in the same manner she might a gnat that was circling her head. "Now you're worried about Rogue? Maybe you should have thought more about her when you…"  
  
He charged the single card left in his hand. "Gambit," the Professor's voice from the doorway compelled him to stop. "I'm sure Rogue will want to return to an intact room."   
  
Remy rubbed his arm across his face; it might have only been sweat that was bothering him, but any careful observer would have been able to see that the moisture originated from his red-in-black eyes. The Professor moved his chair into the center of the room and addressed their unwelcome guest. "I believe he asked you a question, Mystique."  
  
"Why don't you just read my mind?" she retorted.   
  
"I can and I most certainly will. But I'd rather give you the opportunity to come clean on your own."  
  
"Professor," Logan hissed. "This thing don't deserve any opportunities."  
  
Mystique looked away. When she finally looked back, her voice was bored. "She's unharmed." A second passed. "He's taking good care of her."   
  
With that, she puckered up her lips at Logan and morphed into Jubilee. Logan was so caught off guard that he backed up a step, allowing her to slide down the wall and slip out from around him. She made a mad dash for the open window and, despite the two-story plunge to the ground, threw herself out of it.   
  
Remy ran for the window, and he had one leg over the side before Storm yelled, "No! The fall is too much, Remy!"  
  
Bobby blinked and joined the Cajun man. He placed one hand on the windowsill; ice formed on the wood, creating a slide that stretched at an angle away from the mansion, all the way down to the ground. "Go get her."  
  
He nodded his thanks. The ice-slide would have been fun under any other circumstances, but Remy could only count the seconds until he landed on solid ground. The crack of lightning drew his attention towards the sky. Dark storm clouds swirled from out of nowhere, Storm's contribution, meant to slow down Mystique.   
  
Something stirred in the bushes a few yards away and he went for it, pushing apart the foliage with wild hands. In the dark of the approaching storm, he saw nothing.   
  
"This way!" He whipped around upon hearing Logan's voice. The other man had followed him down, and was pointing the opposite direction. Remy ran after him, trusting the Wolverine's sense of smell above his own senses.   
  
They crashed through the woods that led into the Japanese gardens, changing directions every few minutes. Mystique managed to stay ahead of them, however. They never even caught so much as a glimpse of her. They stopped on the curved bamboo bridge.   
  
"The water." Logan let out a string of foul words, before shaking his head and retracting his claws. "I can't smell her anymore."  
  
Remy bent over to catch his breath, supporting himself by his upper thighs. Eventually, even standing was too much. His knees and hands landed on the hard bamboo.   
  
Just then, the clouds opened and rain spilled down onto the earth, soaking them both within seconds.  
  
Logan wiped sweat and rain from his brow and looked down at the Cajun man. He was repeating Rogue's name, his fists balled up and his chin resting on his chest. Water dripped from the auburn ends of the former thief's hair. Awkwardly, Logan knelt and gave Remy's shoulder a quickly, manly squeeze. "I'm sorry, bub."  
  
They stayed there for what seemed like hours before he sensed someone else approaching. Instantly on guard, Logan extracted his claws once more. "It is only I." Hank held up both paws as he approached the bridge. The rain had plastered his blue fur to his body, making him look two sizes smaller. "Come back to the house. The Professor is getting ready to use Cerebro."  
  
****  
  
She'd lost count of the days. It didn't even seem to matter anymore. Three days…thirty…what was the difference? She was alone, without her powers, and except for a few blankets and a tray of food that appeared whenever she woke, without any basic means of survival. Suspecting that the food might be drugged, she'd considered refusing to eat. There was no telling what the drugs might do to her baby. But then, wouldn't it be just as bad to cut off the baby's sustenance by starving herself?   
  
Rogue couldn't choose, so she only nibbled at the food when it came. Inevitably, she'd fall back to sleep and wake up without a clue as to how much time had passed. It wasn't hard to believe that he was doing this to her. After what she'd done to him, she was surprised he hadn't simply left her to die.   
  
"Yeah. That's what Ah want," she'd told him, anger building up in the center of her chest. He still considered her his property, despite all the years she'd spent trying to reaffirm her independence and make amends for the things she'd done at his side. And he thought that all he had to do was say a few words to woo her back; he was so fucking arrogant.  
  
Her anger had grown into rage, and before she knew it, she'd lashed out with her foot, kicking him in the most sensitive place she could think of. "But Ah don' want it if yer comin' attached to it."   
  
Because his own powers were negated by the force field, the groin shot had made him double over in pain. She'd seen Magneto in the look he'd given her. "You might come…to regret that…my dear."   
  
That was the first and only time he'd come into her presence, not that she cared one way or the other. Dead, cold silence was preferable to the sound of his voice offering her everything but moon at the small price of her soul.   
  
"Remy." His name escaped her lips in the moments she was awake. She shivered under the inadequate blankets, rubbing her belly to keep it warm. Was this how he had felt when she'd flown off, leaving him behind in the snow? Freezing. Alone. Without hope? Was she still being punished for that?  
  
No one had rescued Remy. No one would be coming to rescue her. Rogue closed her eyes as sleep claimed her again. Somehow, it was fitting.  
  
****  
  
"Gambit, I'd like you to join me inside."   
  
Remy paused as he pulled a thick sweatshirt emblazoned with the X-Men insignia over his head. After a second, he tugged it down the rest of the way. The cloth was warm against his skin, and he was momentarily grateful to Storm for making him change out of his wet clothes. He looked at the Professor. "Dat be all righ'?"  
  
"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't." The metal doors slid open and Xavier moved his chair into the huge, empty space on the other side.   
  
Taking a look back at his teammates, Remy followed the Professor. He'd never entered Cerebro before, but he'd always been a bit curious. Again, under different circumstances, it might have been fun. The doors slid shut, sealing them up inside.  
  
The Professor lifted the metal helmet from its resting place. "Ground yourself. It's very easy to become disoriented."   
  
Remy nodded as Xavier placed device onto his head. For several long minutes, it seemed like nothing was going to happen. But just when he'd started to wonder if he'd see anything, or if it really was all in the Professor's mind, the grey walls seemed to expand and dissipate. Images appeared, people, mutants, all connected by a fine, grey mist. Although he never moved a muscle, he felt himself zig-zagging through them. So many faces, so much action. People he recognized, people he'd never met. And then, finally, everything stopped on the one person they were looking for.  
  
His Rogue…his belle seemed to be suspended in mid-air by the mist, although she lay on her back. Her head was thrown back, her face distorted with pain. She clutched at her belly, the source of her agony.   
  
"Mon Dieu…"  
  
Everything vanished, crashing them both back to reality. The Professor fumbled in his haste to remove the helmet. "Gambit!"  
  
Remy was already at the doors, pounding on it as though he could open them through willpower alone. When they finally did open, he ran out into the antechamber, surprising every single X-Man gathered around.   
  
"What is it?" Jubilee asked in the tiniest of voices.   
  
He found himself unable to answer. The Professor guided his chair to Remy's side and replied for him, "Magneto's holding her. Cyclops, Storm…prepare the jet. Gambit will be going with you, of course. And Hank…" He looked at the team's doctor. "You'll go, too. She's in labor."   
  
****  
  
An hour later, Remy found himself back in the Blackbird. The lift-off was smoothly executed under Scott's steady hand. Storm sat next to him in the cockpit, leaving Hank and him in the passenger seats towards the back. Except for the occasional words that passed between the two pilots, there was no conversation.   
  
Remy bit into his thumbnail and stared out the window. He was on his way back to Antarctica.  
  
****  
  
To Be Continued 


	9. Find a way to my heart

Disclaimer: Characters have never and will never belong to me.  
  
Author's Notes: Once more, my thanks. Now, I'm going to go crash. See you next time.  
  
****  
  
Unexpected   
  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
Your eyes   
  
That always make me shiver   
  
Now they are closed   
  
They just sometimes twitch a little   
  
And your body, I could hold for an hour   
  
It sent me to heaven   
  
With it's heat and power   
  
I'll remember you   
  
You will be there in my heart   
  
I'll remember you   
  
That is all that I can do   
  
But I'll remember.  
  
-Sophie Zelmani  
  
****  
  
The pain had overcome the drugs and forced her awake. Her mind raced...something was wrong with her baby. More pressure than actual pain, it was different than what she'd felt the night she'd told Remy about the baby. She rolled to her back and looked up at the impenetrable rock formation high above her.   
  
"No...please. It's too early…," Rogue whispered, her muscles clenching. "Not yet. Not like this." She blew out a breath as the contraction faded almost as quickly as it had come. "Please...not without him here."   
  
Admittedly, she didn't know all that much about the particulars of childbirth, although she and Remy had taken a few classes together over their short engagement. The memory brought a smile to her lips despite everything. They'd had to go into the city to find the class, and beyond a shadow of a doubt, they'd been the only mutants there. Oh, the stares they'd gotten when Remy refused to take off his sunglasses and she kept her gloves and long-sleeves on in the heated room.   
  
But he'd been the perfect coach, catching onto the breathing pattern long before any of the other fathers, although it wasn't supposed to have been necessary. Her labor was to have been induced and quickly ended with a hasty Caesarian. And it wasn't supposed to be brought about for another month.   
  
She wasn't going to make it at all without Remy beside her. The uncomfortable pressure returned and she grabbed her stomach. Her face twisted up until the pain passed. She needed help. She needed to stop it somehow.   
  
"Can ya hear me?" she yelled to the emptiness. Hopefully, Magneto was watching her somehow. "If ya care 'bout me like ya claim to..." She bit the inside of her cheek. "...ya won' let my baby die!!"   
  
There was no reply and after an hour of on and off agony had gone by, he still hadn't appeared. Obviously, his desire for her was conditional…and the right decision had been to kick him where it counted.   
  
Although she hated every single one of them, she couldn't keep her tears at bay. "Cryin'. That's all Ah've been doin' lately." Rogue wiped at her cheeks. "No more cryin', baby. Me an' you…we're gonna get through this. 'Kay?"   
  
She steeled herself against the next contraction. There were so many things she'd had to go through alone in her life. This was just one more.   
  
****   
  
Weekdays at Xavier's mansion were usually crammed with activity. Anything from Storm's botany class taking a stroll of the grounds to Hank's biology class digging up the same manicured grounds for worms could be happening at any particular moment. Students ran back and forth, lecture notes were passed from hand to hand, powers were tested, often with interesting results. There was always life. There was always movement.   
  
It had all come to a standstill. Most of the students didn't know the details of the current X-Men mission, but rumors were enough to supply them with the knowledge that it was pretty serious. Maybe not so much as a mission to stop an all-powerful enemy from destroying the world, but it was definitely personal. And that put it on an entirely different level.   
  
Lessons were basically canceled with three out of the five primary teachers taking part in the mission. The Professor allowed the older students to go with Kitty and Bobby into the city for shopping, movies, and free time. The younger students made do with the mansion's recreational activities while the remaining X-Men gathered in the War Room.   
  
Jubilee had opted to take advantage of her technical X-Man status and join the Professor, Wolverine and Jean downstairs. Now, they were all seated around the big round table, without a smile between them. She fidgeted in her chair, not even realizing she was tapping one purple-glittered fingernail against the tabletop at an incredible rate until Logan looked at her.   
  
"Kid…cool it."   
  
She looked down at her hands. "Sorry." In order to keep them still, she tucked them between her knees and the cushioned seat.   
  
Another few minutes ticked by. Finally, Jean shook her head, clearly frustrated. "I can't seem to establish a connection with Rogue to tell her help is on the way. Her mind is too focused, too occupied to let me in."   
  
"I have been trying without luck myself," Xavier told her. "I suppose there isn't much we can do."   
  
Jubilee bit into her lower lip and shot a glance at Logan. His huge hands were molded into tight fists, upon which he was resting his forehead. "Could the baby make it if it were born now?"   
  
"Not without highly specialized care. Hank took a lot of things with him that can help…but honestly," the Professor shook his head. "Let's just hope that the baby takes its time. At least enough to get back here."   
  
Logan lifted his head. "What'd you think Magneto wants with our southern belle?"   
  
"I wish I knew," Xavier replied, softly. "They have a complex history. But I believe Mystique when she said Rogue is unharmed. It's doubtful that she'd place her foster daughter in danger."   
  
Jean twisted her wedding band around her finger. "Then again, haven't we learned to never overestimate anyone?"   
  
The Professor was about to reply when the communication system beeped, announcing an incoming transmission. Jubilee jumped in her seat. "Is it them?!?"   
  
Logan took her hand to quiet her as Jean moved to the communicator. After pressing a few buttons, Scott's voice, thick with static, came over the loudspeaker. "Team One to base, do you read?"   
  
"Base to Team One, we read you," Jean responded. "Scott…have you found her?"   
  
There was a few seconds delay. "Negative. We've just landed at the coordinates. The whole compound appears to be abandoned. No sign of Magneto."   
  
"Proceed with extreme caution," Xavier said. "He's not above an ambush."   
  
"Understood." Another pause followed. "Storm's trying to stabilize the weather; it's almost impossible to see through the snow. Gambit and Beast went ahead to…" He stopped short. "Storm, look out!!!"   
  
Jean's eyes grew wide. "Scott? Scott, what's going on??"   
  
His voice came back, "We're under attack. Storm is…oh my god..."   
  
"She's what?!" Logan demanded, grabbing hold of the communicator as though it were the other man's collar. "What's going on?!"  
  
"She's…I don't know. I have to go." Scott paused. "I love you, Jean."   
  
Her lower lip trembled. "Scott…"   
  
The static abruptly stopped, leaving the room even more silent than it had been before.   
  
Logan was the first to move. Before he could be stopped, he grasped the edge of the table and ripped it away from its anchors. It landed on the other side of the room with a terrific crash. Jubilee put her hand to her mouth; it always hurt her a little when Logan was in pain.   
  
His chest rose and fell as he looked at the heap of metal that had been the conference table. "If I'm needed…I'll be down the hall."   
  
"Don't, Jubilee," the Professor said when the young girl made a motion to follow Logan out of the room. "Let him work it out of his system."   
  
"What do we do now?" Jean whispered.   
  
Xavier looked down at the controls of his chair. "We wait."   
  
****   
  
The baby wasn't going to wait.   
  
Rogue shook her head back and forth on the thin blankets. Despite her earlier pledge, hot tears joined the perspiration that collected at her temples. The pains were coming harder now, with less time in between each one, maybe only ten minutes or so, as opposed to twenty. She had no idea how to prepare herself; she couldn't even sit up enough to remove her jeans. There was no hot water, no scissors, no clean sheets…nothing that was always required in an emergency birth in the movies.   
  
"Ah'm Prissy," she said out loud. "Ah really don' know nothin' 'bout birthin'…"   
  
She never got to finish the quote from her favorite movie. Completely without warning, the cave wall to her far right exploded. Rogue twisted her face away from the debris and dust, both of her arms clutched protectively around her stomach. She coughed and tried to look to see who it was. Had Erik finally come around and decided to help her with the birth? Or was it…   
  
Remy stepped through the dust and over the piles of rock two of his charged cards had created. The last of her willpower against crying gave way as he jumped off the settling debris. "Oh god...sugah…ya came…"   
  
He knelt down next to her and took her bare hand in his gloved one. Putting one arm around her shoulder, he drew her up enough to kiss her hair. "Ma belle, ma ange…I'm here."   
  
"He said…he said ya wouldn' be comin'," she sobbed. "And Ah believed him…Ah'm sorry." She reached for his cheek, wanting to touch him under the protection of Magneto's dampening field. There might never be another opportunity.   
  
Remy gently grasped her hand before she could make contact. "Shh, chere. We're gonna get you out o' here."   
  
She gritted her teeth. "Ah don' think...Ah can move."   
  
"I carry you. But dere ain' no time t'waste, ma belle." He slid his hands underneath her knees.   
  
"No!!" Rogue clutched at his arm. "Wait! Now that yer here...it's okay, Remy. Ah wanna stay!"   
  
"Chere..."  
  
"The field!" Her grip grew tighter. "Ah can have the baby here!! Ah can touch it."   
  
"Gambit not gonna argue wit' you. We go now!"  
  
She shook her head, her hair whipping across his mouth. "If ya gotta go...leave me behind, sugah!!"  
  
"W'at?!"  
  
"Ya heard me," Rogue said, softer this time. "Ah wanna stay here...where Ah can be normal, Remy, just for this one thing. 'Sides, maybe it's fittin'. Ah left ya...an' now it's yer turn."  
  
"You know somet'ing..." He gave her the hardest look he could. "Dat's de dumbest t'ing Gambit ever heard tell!!!"  
  
She clutched at her lower abdomen, but her argument never wavered. "Ain' ya recognized where we are, Remy?? Don' ya know?"  
  
"Course I do. Not somet'ing I'd forget."   
  
"It's the same place," Rogue cried. "The same field...Ah can touch ya here, Remy." She reached for him with cold fingers. "Let me touch ya..."  
  
Once again, Remy stopped her. "Chere," he started again, in a voice that was choked with tenderness...and regret. "Don' you t'ink if Gambit could...he'd not be lettin' go o' you? W'atever field Magneto have up...we had t'take it down." She stared at him, demanding that he go on. "Cyke take out de control room wit' one look." He glanced back at the exit he'd created. "Dat's how Gambit get in here." He swallowed heavily and looked back at her. "Dis ain' no time or place t'have our bebe, ma belle."   
  
Rogue's eyes lowered and darted from side to side as she took it all in. After a moment, she closed them, resigned, once again, to her unfair fate. "The baby's comin', Remy." A contraction hit and she let out a little cry. "Can't stop it..."   
  
"Gambit." Hank swung into the room, unharmed except for a nasty cut on his arm. Blood matted his fur. "Magneto's team has been neutralized for the moment. Now would be the time to retreat to the jet."   
  
He nodded and secured his arms under and around Rogue. "Put your arm 'round me, chere." She did so numbly. "Here we go." Remy lifted her against his chest; she winced as the sudden movement sent a spike of pain through her belly.   
  
As she was carried out of the cave, Rogue took one last look back. It was too hard, having hope handed to her and then snatched away so quickly. She shut her eyes and tucked her face into the high collar of Remy's uniform.  
  
They emerged into the swirling snow, and Remy instantly chastised himself for forgetting the few blankets Magneto had provided her with. She shivered against him. "Almos' dere, ma belle. Just hold on, oui?"  
  
She felt herself drifting. She tried to focus on his face, but she must have lost some time, because the next thing she knew, Remy was charging up the lowered gangway of the Blackbird. Rouge felt herself being laid onto the floor, her head cushioned by a balled up sweatshirt. She looked to her side. A few feet away,  
  
Storm was laid out in quite a similar manner. Only she wasn't moving.   
  
"Everyone here?" she heard Scott yell. "Hang on..."  
  
Rogue turned her gaze back up to the ceiling of the jet. The engines roared to life beneath her and the vibrations coursed through her entire body. Remy's face appeared over hers. "Stay wit' me, chere." He paused. "Hank."  
  
"Her water hasn't broken, Remy. That's a very good sign; if it had, with the placenta previa..." Rogue heard him sigh. "Well, let's not even touch upon that scenario. I'm going to give her a steriod shot...it has a two-fold purpose. It should slow her contractions and build up the baby's underdeveloped lungs. If labor can't be stopped..."  
  
She cut him off. "Erik..." Her mouth was so dry, the question came out barely audible.   
  
Remy's gloved fingers stroked her cheek. "He got out 'fore we got dere. Just left ya behind wit' his freres." His tone grew colder than the ground below them. "Dat not my idea o' 'unharmed.'"  
  
She was about to ask about Storm when she felt her sleeve being pushed up and Hank's rubber-gloved hands swabbing her skin with alcohol. The needle's prick was nothing compared to the painful pressure in her abdomen. "Just relax and breathe, Rogue," Hank said.   
  
"Like we learn, chere." Remy sucked in two fast breaths and released. "Remember?"  
  
Rogue repeated the pattern for his benefit. "Hank," she said. "Tell me the truth, sugah. If the baby decides to come out on this jet...will it be okay?"  
  
"Like I said, try to relax." The doctor gave her a warm smile from far above. "I have to help Storm now, but I promise, I will do everything in my power to help you and your baby."   
  
Remy's face replaced his. "Breathe, ma belle. De pain pass if you breathe."  
  
"What's wrong with Storm?"  
  
He hesitated. "She take on de brunt o' de Brot'erhood." His fingers twisted up into her curls. "It look bad, chere, Gambit don' lie t'you."  
  
Rogue closed her eyes, relaxing into his protected touch. "All this...'cause he wanted me back. Am Ah really worth it??"  
  
"Ma chere." Remy took her pale hand, pressing it between his palms. "You are...t'all o' us. But most 'specially t'me." He tried to smile and wink. "'Cause Gambit blow a hundred bucks on dat tuxedo. An' he plan t'get his money's worth."   
  
Hank left the couple to their breathing after checking over Storm's condition. He climbed to the front of the jet and sat in the empty seat next to Scott.  
  
"How are they doing?" the man piloting asked gravely.  
  
"If there is some sort of hyperdrive on this craft, it would not be overzealous to employ it," Hank replied, ripping off his glasses. "Rogue needs specialized equipment if either she or her baby are to survive. And Storm..." He sighed. "I think she's bleeding internally."   
  
Scott stared ahead into the clouds. After a second, he reached out and flipped up a flat panel on the control board. Upon pressing it, the jet's speed tripled, launching them through the sky at an inhuman rate.   
  
"Got to love the Shi'ar and their technology," he quipped, dryly. "We'll be at the mansion in under two hours."   
  
****  
  
Logan was the first to reach the landing pad, with Jubilee right on his heels. The incredible winds kicked up by the jet's landing gear and engines blew even his carefully constructed hairdo out of place. He waited like a wounded wild cat, waiting for the ramp to lower, waiting to see her walk down, her cape billowing around her legs, waiting to see her be all right.   
  
Remy carried Rogue down the ramp. By that time, a small crowd had gathered at the edge of the landing strip, including several students with stretchers from the infirmary. The mass of people parted to let Gambit walk by and place his fiance onto one of them. She was breathing as best she could; he never let go of her hand.   
  
He wanted to be able to give his attention to his friend who was in so much pain from a way-too-early labor, but Logan had to look back at the ramp. Hank came down next, carrying his bags of medical supplies. Their eyes met, but Hank looked away. A lump settled into the base of Logan's throat.   
  
Then, Scott walked down the ramp. Carrying Storm. A huge, cold fist squeezed on his heart. She was so still, and so pale, despite the beautiful color of her skin. There didn't appear to be any major injuries, but he just knew something was terribly wrong.  
  
Scott moved past him, and he smelled sweat, blood, and lingering traces of her perfume. His oft-times rival paused to address him. "Are you coming?"  
  
A sad little parade made its way through the grounds, from the landing pad back to the mansion, with Logan at the very end this time. When he entered the house, he sniffed, smelling fresh coffee, someone's way of helping the situation.   
  
He simply sent his fist through one wall, watched the cuts and bruises vanish, and took the stairs down to the infirmary. Two of the women he cared most about in the world were in serious jeopardy. No one would be sleeping that night.  
  
****  
  
To Be Continued 


	10. And baby makes three

Disclaimer: Characters within, except for one (everybody get ready to say "aww") do not belong to me.  
  
Author's Notes: Thank you, merci, arigatou, danke, gracias, etc. I appreciate any and all feedback very much! I'm glad this story is flowing so fast and so well, too. Knock on wood...I hope it will continue to. I think it might have a lot to do with all the wonderful repsonses I've been getting;) A happy writer is a productive writer. So, enjoy the chapter!  
  
****  
  
Unexpected   
  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
"If this is what touchin' leads to…" Rogue shook her head. "Maybe my powers ain' really a curse."  
  
From his place beside her, where he'd been ever since he plucked her out of the cave, Remy gave Hank a look. "She loves me, mon ami, can' you tell?"  
  
Hank tried to smile, but his exhaustion was far too evident, especially around his eyes. The clock on the far wall now read three-thirty a.m., but his second surgery hadn't even started yet. At least he could look across the room and see Storm, still unconscious, but stable. Her lung had been punctured, her ribs fractured and her liver damaged, but she was going to make it, especially if the man seated next to her bed had anything to say about it.   
  
Logan appeared to be dozing, although even in that state, he'd refused to let go of Storm's hand. The hardest part of Hank's entire night hadn't even been seeing to the care of his two patients, but dealing with the men who loved them. Admittedly, Remy had been far more under-foot than Logan, but Hank forgave him. It wasn't just Rogue's life that the Cajun man had to worry about, but that of their unborn child.   
  
"All right, Rogue." Hank stood up so he could see her face over the blue sheet that had been draped across her stomach and suspended in air as to prevent her from seeing what was happening below her waist. She wanted to be awake through the operation to deliver her baby, but she certainly didn't have to see him cut into her. "Can you feel this?"  
  
She could feel some pressure on her shin, but it was unidentifiable as there was no sensation behind it. "Sugah, Ah'm not even sure Ah got a lower body anymore."   
  
"Good. Now, just relax." He turned to Jean, who was helping as best she could. "I'll start with a three-inch midline incision through the dermis and subcutaneous…"  
  
Rogue took a breath and closed her eyes. Contrary to all her bravado and attempted jokes, she was very, very scared. He knew…somehow Remy just knew. She felt his fingers entwine with her gloved ones. "It be over soon, ma chere," he said softly. "An' den we have our bébé." He kissed her hand, careful not to disturb the IV protruding from it. "Maybe I don' tell you before…" Remy stopped.  
  
"Tell me what?" she asked, drawing in a breath. She could feel more pressure, this time on her abdomen, and even though she couldn't see it, just knowing that Hank was cutting into her was enough to turn her stomach.  
  
"Merci, ma belle." He looked down and when he looked back up, she could see moisture gathered at the corners of his eyes. "Gambit'd stopped t'inking dat dere'd ever be anyt'ing good in his life. Den he meet you an' he t'ink, here's somet'ing. An' he was happy, chere. Didn' matter what happen…good, bad, very bad. But dere always a little piece o' him dat wanted more." She opened her mouth, but he cut her off gently. "Don' say you know, ma belle. Dis not 'bout sex. Dis 'bout family. Sex be good…" Remy smiled, a bit like his usual self. "Well, dere no need t'tell you…you were dere."  
  
Rogue gave him a hard look, although it was somewhat softened by the mild sedative she'd been given to help her relax. "Ah can't believe ya can still be so damn cocky, swamp rat. 'Specially righ' now!!!"  
  
"Gambit tryin' t'say somet'ing here, chere." He paused to kiss her hand again. "You givin' me w'at I always want. My own family. An…I love you for it."  
  
They watched each other for a long moment. Rogue wanted to look away, but she just couldn't. His eyes were too powerful. She wanted to yell at him, maybe even lash out. He shouldn't be thanking her yet; there were too many things that could go wrong. All the drugs in the infirmary hadn't been able to slow down the contractions, and the baby was going to be so premature. Every odd was against this vision of domestic bliss he wanted, yet he was thanking her?? How could he have so much faith in her body, after every torture it had put them through?   
  
"Rogue," Hank said. "How are you doing?"  
  
"Ah think…" She blinked and let a few tears fall, rather than try to fight them. "Ah think Ah should be askin' ya'll that."  
  
Jean poked her head around the blue curtain. "It's going well, Rogue. It should only be another minute or two." She smiled. **He has faith in you. We all do. You must learn to have faith in yourself.**  
  
Rogue ignored the voice in her head in order to look up at Remy. "Tell me what's goin' on, sugah."   
  
He blinked. "You want me t'look at…t'look at…" He seemed unable to finish the sentence.  
  
"One o' us should see our baby bein' born."   
  
Remy hung his head. "Dere ain' enough bourbon in de world." But he drew in a huge breath and stood up, forcing himself to see what lay on the other side of the blue cloth. "Mon Dieu…" he muttered a moment later. "W'at's dat blue tin'g, mon ami?"  
  
"The uterus," Hank replied. "Hold on…"   
  
The father-to-be's face was a mask of disgust and little-boy fascination. "Chere…de bébé…" He watched as Hank reached into Rogue and gently tugged the smallest baby he'd ever seen from inside of her.   
  
There wasn't any way to describe how he felt upon seeing his child for the first time. The moment should have been overflowing with joy and pride and excitement, but Remy could only stare. Streaked with blood and mucus and frighteningly motionless, the child was developed, but it couldn't have been longer that Hank's hand, just under twelve inches at the very most.   
  
Hank glanced up at him. "It's a girl."   
  
A girl. Remy took a small step back as though something had hit his chest in that instant. And truthfully, something had and it was an emotion he'd never felt in this particular way before. It was instinctual. Powerful. Protective. Parental. Love.   
  
"Ma chere," whispered, still staring at the tiny, but in his eyes, perfect baby. "We have a girl."   
  
Rogue felt her throat close up. "A girl," she repeated in the softest of whispers. "Ah wanna…can Ah see her…please?"   
  
"Of course, Rogue." Holding the child in one hand, Hank lightly patted the baby's back. Remy kept waiting to hear the tell-tale cry of life, but it didn't come. However, the child's flesh slowly began to show some color.   
  
"Hank…" Remy said, not sure of what he was asking, but feeling the need to say something.  
  
"She's breathing," the doctor replied to his unanswered question. "Her lungs are just too…weak to cry just yet. Jean, hand Remy those scissors." She did as he asked and Remy found himself looking at the surgical shears. "Do you want to cut it?" Hank asked, indicating the cord that still attached the baby to Rogue.  
  
He found himself doing it before he'd even made up his mind. Two quick snips and it was over. And the baby was on its own. He lowered his arm and felt Jean pry the scissors away from him. His eyes never left his daughter as Hank took her around the sheet, presenting her to Rogue for the first time.   
  
"Here she is," Jean whispered, wiping away her own tears. "Your baby, momma."   
  
Rogue couldn't say anything. She couldn't even breathe. This tiny, perfect little human being had been made from the most wonderful night of her life, survived every obstacle in its short six and a half months of existence and was now there, alive…but just barely.   
  
"Remy…" She licked her dry lips. "We gotta…name her. Now."   
  
He thought for a second before he said, "Madeline."   
  
Rogue watched her baby slowly flail a fist that couldn't have been any bigger than a whole pecan. Instant love and even more instantaneous worry bubbled up in her chest. "Madeline." She nodded. "It's perfect."  
  
****  
  
Within the first three hours of her life, Madeline Lebeau had her first shot, a steroid injection to build up her lungs, an IV inserted into her little arm, a complete physical where it was determined that her other organs seemed to be doing their proper jobs, and a handful of visitors, who peered at her from behind the thick plastic meant to keep her warm and safe.   
  
Hank aligned the incubator with Rogue's bed after he successfully closed her up and ordered her to sleep. She tried to stay awake in order to watch the rise and fall of Madeline's chest, as though if she closed her eyes, it might stop. Eventually though, the events of the past few days caught up with her, and she dropped into a deep, drug-influenced slumber.   
  
It was Remy who stayed awake to greet the small group of well-wishers that included the Professor and Scott. He sat between his fiancé's bed and his daughter's incubator, unwilling to leave either of them even for a moment to shower, or change clothes or catch a few minutes of rest for himself.   
  
Just after dawn, the infirmary was empty. The Professor had forced Hank to go to his room and sleep, and the other went upstairs to give a full report to the house, as well as to start breakfast. Only Remy and Logan remained, keeping the watch.   
  
Silence engulfed them. But after a long time Logan tore his attention away from Storm, who still lay sleeping herself and looked over at the newly formed family. "Congratulations, bub." The words echoed off the walls.   
  
Remy accepted this with an incline of his head. "It all happen so fast." He scratched his jaw and found it rough with stubble. "Don' quite feel real t'Gambit yet." He touched the plastic wall that separated him from his daughter. "Den I see her an'…it be real. She's here…she be mine. My Madeline."   
  
"How'd Rogue do?" Logan asked, his voice choked. "I was in and out durin' the whole thing."  
  
"She de bravest femme Gambit ever know," Remy said, sliding the fingers on his other hand through her tangled curls. "Hank say…Madeline come early from de drugs Magneto give t'her." Logan watched his expression change from tender to raging. "I ever see dat enculé…I kill him."  
  
The other man snorted softly. "Stand in line, pal."  
  
"Stormy pull through, mon ami," Remy told him. "She got a lot t'live for." He paused. "She have you."  
  
"Yeah." Logan trapped his hands around Storm's limp hand and brought it up to his mouth. "Only…I ain't sure she knows that. I haven't told that I…"   
  
When he failed to go on, Remy lifted one shoulder. "La vie est courte."   
  
"Don't give me your bayou babble, Gumbo."  
  
Smiling sadly, he looked down at Rogue as she slept. "Life be short, mon ami. W'en you got de time t'tell dem you care…you do it." He bent over, resting the side of his head next to Rogue's on the infirmary bed pillow. "'Cause de chance don' always last."  
  
****  
  
Rogue woke up almost twenty-four hours after the birth of her daughter. One minute she was lost to the blissful darkness, and the next her eyes were open. The first thing she saw was the incubator, resting just beside her head. But it was empty.  
  
She let out a little whimper as her panic swelled and she tried to sit up. But hot pain sliced through her belly, reminding her that she was far from healed. Still, she had to find her baby. Her gaze darted about to as much of the infirmary as she could see.   
  
Their voices were audible before she caught sight of Hank and Remy a few yards away at another examination table. Madeline lay on her back, absolutely swimming in the smallest diaper available, and quiet even as Hank listened to her heartbeat through his stethoscope. Rogue relaxed, but kept watching and listening.   
  
"It's steady. That's a good sign." The doctor smiled at Remy. "Would you like to hold her now?"  
  
"I won' hurt her?"   
  
Hank shook his blue head. "Of course not." Ever so gently, he wrapped little Madeline up in one of the pink blankets Rogue had spent so many hours shopping for, and transferred her into Remy's waiting arms. Rogue bit her lip; their baby looked even smaller against his broad chest.   
  
"Gambit need you t'tell him straigh', mon ami." Remy looked down at the wonder in the crook of his elbow. "Will she make it through…normal?"  
  
The doctor took a moment to answer. "There's no reason to believe that she won't. If you're worried about her brain development, only time will tell. I will say this though." He sighed. "The one thing she's going to need is human contact." When Remy frowned, he continued, "It's a biological fact that for proper development, babies require skin-to-skin contact, especially premature babies. The bonding process cements in these first few weeks, not to mention that by placing her on your chest, your body temperature can help regulate hers and your heartbeat is almost like what she felt in Rogue's womb." He put a heavy hand on Remy's shoulder. "This is going to fall to you, my friend. I know you can do it, but it's going to be very hard for Rogue. I'm afraid she might feel detached from Madeline, being unable to do this for her. It's also going to fall to you to bridge that gap. She is Madeline's mother, and nothing could ever negate the importance of that."  
  
"I understand," Remy said. "Gambit do his best." With the very tip of his pinky finger, he touched his daughter's soft cheek for the first time. "Gambit got to."  
  
Rogue turned her head away from them, unable to keep her sudden sorrow from overflowing. She'd shed every kind of tears that were possible, but they'd never tasted quite so bitter.  
  
****  
  
"Ro." Logan traced the edge of her jaw with his fingers. "Are you awake?"  
  
Her long lashes fluttered and he was treated to a glimpse of the white-blue for which he'd fallen and fallen hard. Because she was still hooked up to a respirator, she couldn't speak, but just by the way she looked at him, Logan knew she was fully aware of her surroundings.  
  
"Hank'll take that out, soon as possible," he assured her. He slid his fingers through her hair. "You gave me a scare, Ro. I thought I was gonna lose you."   
  
She closed her eyes for a second, as though apologizing.  
  
Logan sniffed and stared at the wall for a long moment, collecting himself. "Yeah…so, Rogue an' Gambit are parents now. You missed that while you were sleepin'. Little girl. Madeline." He looked back down at her. "Never seen one so small, but I think she just might make it."  
  
The corners of her lips turned up in a smile around the tube protruding from her mouth.   
  
"Dammit," he cursed suddenly, making her wince again. "Scott told us…you took some huge shape-shifter all by yourself. And that he turned into a bear…tossed you around like…" His fists curled up. "He could've killed you, Ro! Do you have any idea how much of me would die if anything…ever happened…" Logan let himself trail off. "You don't, do you?"   
  
Twin tears dripped from her eyes and twisted a path down her temples.   
  
He kissed her hand, his mouth hard and hot against the delicate flesh of her palm. "In case this chance don't last…I care, Ro. More than I can say. 'Cause…I ain't good with the actual…words. I've said 'em before and…it's never worked out. If I say 'em to you…" Logan shook his head. "Can't run the risk. Can you understand that?"   
  
She watched him with the saddest expression, but nodded her head as much as she could.   
  
He stood up in order to drop another, softer kiss on her bruised forehead. "But can you forgive me?"   
  
When he looked back at her eyes, they were closed. Logan swallowed heavily and set her hand back down at her side. "Sleep, darlin'. Everyone needs you better."  
  
He stood, stretched and pushed aside the curtain that allowed for some privacy, looking around the infirmary as he did so. A rocking chair had been dragged down from Rogue's room and was now set up right next the incubator and the bed in which the new mother still slept.   
  
The new father sat in it with his infant daughter resting on her stomach on his chest, which was bare thanks to the extra undone buttons of his white shirt. Remy didn't notice him watching, his attention was so entirely focused on the tiny baby.  
  
With Logan's advanced hearing, he could pick up on the man's deep voice, slightly off-key, whispering a lullaby as he rocked little Madeline.  
  
"Au clair de la lune, mon ami Pierrot…prete-moi ta plume pour ecrire un mot." Remy closed his eyes and rested his head against the high back of the chair as he continued, "Ma chandelle est morte, je n'ai plus de feu…ouvre-moi ta porte, pour l'amour de Dieu."  
  
Logan slipped out of the infirmary on silent feet, unwilling to disturb the moment.  
  
****  
  
To Be Continued  
  
A/N: The lullaby is, of course, "Au Clair de la Lune." If you ever had to learn the recorder in elementary school, you've surely heard it before;) All medical information on C-section births and premature babies came from a variety of websites, and yes, the uterus is blue. Kind of freaky, eh?  
  
Kristen 


	11. Don't dream it's over

Disclaimer: Characters not mine, yada, yada, yada. You know the drill.  
  
Author's Notes: More big thanks for the reviews;) A question came up about Madeline's name being so similar to Madelyne, Scott's ex-wife. I wasn't even thinking about that when I came up with it, so that's why there was no reaction from Jean in the delivery room. But honestly, I'd imagine that Jean's a big enough person to know that sometimes a name is just a name, and a pretty, French name at that;) Enjoy this next chapter!   
  
****   
  
Unexpected  
  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
But she wants everything,   
  
He can pretend to give her everything .  
  
Or there's nothing she wants,   
  
She don't want to sort it out.   
  
He's crazy for this girl,  
  
But she don't know what she's looking for.   
  
If she knew what she wants, he'd be giving it to her.   
  
Giving it to her."   
  
-The Bangles  
  
****   
  
"Madeline." Jubilee peered through the plastic at the impossibly tiny baby sleeping on her stomach within the warm confines of the incubator. "I think her name might be longer than she is." The girl straightened up. "But she's beautiful, Rogue, really."   
  
The older woman smiled weakly. "Thanks, sugah."   
  
"I wonder if she'll have red hair. Both you and Remy do," Jubilee mused. "Oh, and her eyes! I bet they'll be green like yours."   
  
"Don' know 'bout that," Rogue said, taking a small sip of water from the cup next to her bed. "Red and green combined make brown, don' they?"   
  
Hank entered carrying a clipboard chart. "I'm not entirely certain genetics work that way," he answered. "But I suppose that it's not out of the realm of possibility." He looked at Jubilee. "Could I have a moment alone with Rogue, my dear?"   
  
"'Course." She gave Rogue her brightest smile. "I'll be back. You know I can't resist babies."   
  
Rogue inclined her head. "Bye." Once the girl left the infirmary, she took a breath. "Is somethin' wrong, Hank?"   
  
"Not exactly." He approached her bed. "Where is our proud father?"   
  
"Ah finally convinced him to go take a shower," she replied. "He was startin' to smell."   
  
The doctor chuckled. "Actually, this is something we can discuss without him." He paused.   
  
"It's all righ', sugah," Rogue prompted. "Ya've cut into me an' pulled out a baby. There really ain' no secrets between us anymore."   
  
He nodded. "The subject is breast-feeding."   
  
Her smile immediately disappeared. "Ah can't do it."   
  
"Not as such, no," Hank quietly replied. "But Madeline still needs it. She won't be able to take a bottle for at least another couple of weeks, but I can put in a tube through her...well, through her stomach and feed her with milk you've expressed."   
  
"Expressed?"   
  
"Pumped."   
  
"Oh." She lifted one shoulder, and winced when she felt the simple motion all the way down to her belly. Three days after the birth and there still weren't enough pain meds in the infirmary to make her feel normal. "Ah like the way ya put it first."   
  
Hank set down his clipboard and studied her. "Are you ready to do this?"   
  
"Is de femme ready t'do w'at?" Remy entered the lab, bringing with him the clean scents of soap and shampoo. His hair was dark with water and pulled into a short ponytail at the back of his neck. Rogue cleared her throat. It wasn't healthy to dwell too much on how good he looked fresh out of his shower.   
  
"Rogue and I were just discussing breast-feeding," Hank replied. "Madeline's progress will increase by leaps and bounds with the nutrition designed specifically for her by Rogue's body."   
  
The woman in the bed shook her head. "We keep comin' back to this body thing. Ain' ya'll learned yet? Ya can't trust my body with anythin'!"   
  
"It's a simple enough task to express milk, Rogue."   
  
Remy was already at the incubator, kneeling down and watching Madeline as she slept. "If it good for ma Madeline, dere be no question, oui?"   
  
"What if..." Rogue looked down at her gloved hands, fidgeting. "What if...my milk is just like...a part o' my body. An' touchin' it...drinkin' it...will hurt her? Ah can't..." She bit back a sob. "Ah can't hurt her."   
  
"I would highly doubt that scenario, my dear. But if you're worried, I can perform some tests before I give it to her."   
  
Rogue glanced over at Remy. "Ah wanna be able to do this for her, Ah do."   
  
"Den do it, chere." He gave her a private smile. "Jus' don' kick me out w'en you do. Give dis Caj'n somet'ing t'dream 'bout."   
  
A tiny smile cracked through her worry. "Pervert."   
  
"Sometime," he shot back, carelessly.   
  
She drew in a slow breath and released it even slower. "Ah'll do it. So long as ya perform those tests, 'kay?" The doctor nodded. "All right. What do Ah do?"   
  
"First of all," Hank opened the top of the incubator. "There's something you haven't done yet." He reached inside, gently freed Madeline from the myriad of tubes and monitors to which she was hooked up, and lifted her up and out. "It's been three days, Rogue. It's time for you to hold your baby."   
  
Almost instantly, her face became whiter than the sheet tucked around her waist. "No. Ah can't...Ah..." She looked around for some sort of delay. But her arms were gloved up to her elbows and the sleeves of her hospital gown covered the rest. "Ah...can't. Ah'm..." She decided to go with the truth, plain and simple. "...scared."   
  
"Chere." Remy bent his head, getting as close to her ear as he could. "She need you."   
  
It took a moment, but Rogue finally relaxed and nodded. "Ah've...been wantin' to," she admitted in the smallest voice that nearly broke his heart. "Ah just didn' think Ah should hope for somethin' so good, ya know?"   
  
Hank's only reply was to approach with the baby. "Hold out your arms." When she did so, they shook. "Just relax. It's going to be okay." After Rogue nodded, Hank carefully transferred the tiny baby into the crook of her mother's arm. "There you go." He stepped away, to give them some time.   
  
Rogue didn't notice. All she felt was the delicate two pounds of her daughter, warm and alive even through the protective Lycra and cotton. Madeline's tiny eyes were closed, but they, like the rest of her face, were perfectly formed. Her lips promised to be full some day, her nose dipped and turned up in a fluid curve. And, as she stared even harder, she could just see the beginning wisps of auburn hair on the baby's head. "Oh god," she whispered, a tear escaping and cascading down her cheek. "She *is* beautiful."   
  
"We make good t'ings toget'er, ma belle," Remy said. "Gambit always know dat."   
  
She sniffed and smiled. "Hi, baby-girl. My baby-girl. Ah'm Momma. An' that's Daddy, righ' there." She nodded towards her fiancé .   
  
"Papa," he corrected her.   
  
"Pain in the ass," Rogue corrected his correction. "But only Ah get to call him that." She paused, biting her lip and tasting salt. "Ah know Ah can't be a really great momma, baby. Ah won' be able to hug ya whenever Ah want or...brush yer hair or help ya put make-up on. Stuff like that. But Ah promise ya.." Her vision clouded over. "Ah love ya...an' Ah'll never stop. Never. 'Til Ah die, an' maybe even after, Ah'll be the best momma Ah can be." Remy pressed a kiss into her hair, swallowing heavily. "Remy," she addressed him.   
  
"Chere?" The word was muffled by her curly locks.   
  
"Tell me...tell me what she feels like." He pulled back to look at her. Rogue continued, "Ah just...wanna know...if she's as soft as Ah think she is." Hesitantly, as though she were reaching for something hot, Rogue ran a gloved finger down Madeline's cheek.   
  
"She feel like...de underside o' de magnolia petal," Remy told her. "De only ot'er t'ing I ever feel like it be you." He let his hand drift up her side to cup her full breast through her cotton gown. "Righ' here."   
  
To counteract the very upsetting shiver that ran down her spine, she frowned at him. "Not in front o' the baby, swamp rat."   
  
He reluctantly released her and sighed. "It like we already married, chere." There was a pause. "W'ile we talkin' 'bout dis…"  
  
Rogue met his gaze. "Ah know what yer gonna say. Today's supposed to be our weddin' day. But Remy…"  
  
"Shh, chere." He put a finger as close to her lips as he could. "Everyt'ing able t'wait for anot'er day. Gambit take care o' it all."  
  
She nodded, and looked away before he could see through her in the uncanny way that only he could. Somehow, she was convinced, he'd figure it out sooner or later. Erik's words in the cave were still with her. His horrible predictions for their future together…she couldn't stop thinking about them. Remy wanted to marry her, he wanted to be a father to Madeline and a husband to her…but would it always be enough for him? Was it enough for her, to live in a sexless marriage? Or would living together be like holding a piece of chocolate out to a child, but not letting him have it? Tempting, taunting, torture.   
  
Madeline's early arrival was definitely reason enough to postpone the wedding. But in the very back of her mind, Rogue couldn't help but wonder if it was the only reason.  
  
****   
  
Storm would never again take the ability to speak for granted. Off the respirator and back in her own room, her recovery was progressing steadily. In fact, it seemed that being unable to talk for three days had worked to her advantage in a twisted, round about way.  
  
The thing she'd wanted for weeks, the unquestionable knowledge that Logan cared about her, she'd gotten it. But there was still something within her that ached and it wasn't just her surgical scars. Yes, he cared about her. But he also cared about Jubilee. And Rogue. And Jean. Especially Jean.   
  
What made her different, if she was different at all? She was the only one he'd taken to his bed, at least as far as she knew. But it wasn't any secret that he'd wanted Jean there. And while that desire seemed to have cooled into a comfortable friendship, how was she to know if that's really how he felt at the center of his heart? He kept his emotions hidden from the naked eye with a sneer and a flash of adamantium. It was the hardest thing she'd ever done, loving the Wolverine.   
  
Speak of the devil and it comes. There was a knock on her door and he entered, carrying a tray with a bowl of steaming soup and a squiggling plate of green Jello. "You're awake," he said, closing the door.   
  
"Just for a moment," she replied, her voice still hoarse from the respirator tube.  
  
"Hungry?"  
  
Storm shook her head. "Maybe later." Logan set the tray down on a little table that had been set up by her bed, and folded his arms awkwardly across his broad chest. After a few seconds of lingering silence, she asked, "How are Rogue and Remy doing?"  
  
"Fine, I guess," he replied, glancing down at his heavy boots. "I just saw 'em down in the lab when I was gettin' the okay on this food from Hank. They were talkin' somethin' about…breast milk." He shook his head. "I didn't stick around."  
  
Although it hurt, Storm couldn't help but laugh. "I can't blame you. But it is good that they are moving into the everyday adventures of parenting." Another second passed. "You can sit down."   
  
He hesitated before precariously perching himself on the very edge of her bed. "Listen, Ro…about what I said the day you woke up…"  
  
She cut him off. "It's all right, Logan."  
  
His thick brow pulled into a frown. "It is?"  
  
"I care about you, too, as I care for any member of this team…this family. And I don't expect anything but that mutual affection and respect from you."  
  
"You don't."  
  
Storm forced a smile for his benefit. "No. I don't. So, don't worry about me. I haven't gone and fallen in love with you."   
  
"I see." He nodded and stood up. "Well. That's good, darlin'. For your sake. No one's ever been safe lovin' me."   
  
Something in his voice made her want to breakdown, throw her arms around him and tell him that she did love him, and that she didn't care if it was safe or right or reciprocated. But she kept her eyes down as he walked back to the door.   
  
When he reached it, he paused and spoke without looking back. "You left a couple things in my room. I'll get 'em back to you." Logan twisted the knob, yanking the door open hard and fast. "Take it easy. Hank'll be up to check on you."   
  
The door slammed behind him, leaving Storm alone with her thoughts and tears. Just when had she gone and fallen in love with him, anyway? And now, how was she supposed to go on, knowing he could never feel the same?  
  
****  
  
The machine was odd and made her feel rather like a cow at a dairy plant, but after a week of expressing milk several times a day for her daughter, Rogue had gotten quite comfortable with the process. And Madeline, much to everyone's delight, had gained several ounces after Hank began giving it to her through the gastric tube. Someday soon, she'd be able to take a bottle that Rogue would be able to give to her. And then, she'd really be able to feed her baby.   
  
Right now, as she finished up with the pump, Madeline was awake in her incubator, blinking as she looked around at her fuzzy, white, plastic world. Her eyes were newborn dark-blue, but the area around each iris was white.   
  
She smiled sadly recalling how Remy had nearly doubled over in relief when Madeline finally opened her eyes and allowed them a glimpse. Rogue hadn't realized until that moment how much he'd been afraid that his eyes, his own little curse to bear, might be passed on to their daughter. Truthfully, she hadn't cared if Madeline's eyes ended up being red in black or green in black or anything in black. She loved Remy's eyes the way they were, and if their child's had turned out the same, it would have been fine with her.  
  
Rogue set aside the half-full bottle of milk and approached the incubator. Lying on her back, her daughter looked up. It was easy to imagine that the little girl saw her standing over her, but she knew that Madeline could only see a few inches and even those inches were blurred. After ensuring that her gloves were securely in place, Rogue reached into the incubator like Hank had shown her and picked the baby up.   
  
Madeline gave no protest. Even if she had been upset by the change in temperature, her little lungs were still struggling to give voice to her cries. The best she could do was some mewling whimpers when her diaper needed to be changed. Rogue cradled her daughter in the crook of her arm and tucked a soft, pink blanket around her. "Mornin', baby-girl," she crooned softly. Madeline blinked. "It's just me today, precious…Daddy's still sleepin' upstairs. Ah snuck down to see ya."   
  
Rogue eased into the rocking chair; the evidence of her C-section healed more and more every day, aided considerably by her own immeasurable physical strength, but it still hurt. "Ah got breakfast ready for ya. We just gotta wait 'til Hank gets his hairy butt down here."   
  
She watched Madeline watch her for a long moment. "Ah still can't figure out how Ah helped make somethin' so perfect," she confided. "Ya are, ya know? Perfect." With her gloved fingers, she un-tucked the blanket enough to see Madeline's tiny feet. "Ya got ten toes…an' ten fingers." Rogue lightly tickled the bottom of one foot, making Madeline kick in reaction. "An' Ah don' 'spect there's been a baby ever who's prettier. Don' tell your Daddy this, but Ah think yer gonna be a heartbreaker." She smiled. "He'll lock ya up in a tower an' throw away the key."  
  
Rogue rested her head against the pillow Remy had tied to the back of the hard, wood chair. A content minute passed between mother and daughter. So content, in fact, that for the first time in years, Rogue felt almost normal. Just like any other mother who happened to have a premature baby, she was rocking and talking to her baby, marveling at the miracle that had come out of her body.   
  
When Madeline closed her eyes to go back to sleep, Rogue let herself, as well. Her usual strength and vitality hadn't entirely returned to her yet, as her body was still pouchy and loose from the pregnancy, not to mention cut up and sewn back together.   
  
She dozed for maybe ten minutes before coming around. Smiling, Rogue looked down at Madeline. Instantly, she knew something was wrong. Instead of the warm pink color that her baby had grown into since her birth, her skin had taken on a dangerous shade of blue. And in the few seconds Rogue spent studying her, she realized something even more frightening. Madeline was no longer breathing.   
  
"Oh god!!" Rogue stood up, panicked. Still holding her still body, she examined her arms, searching for any exposed area of skin that might have touched her daughter. Her fear overtook everything. "Help!!" she screamed as loudly as she could. "Help me…please!!!"   
  
She slipped to her knees, clutching Madeline to her chest and rocking her ever so slightly. "Wake up, baby-girl…please…please don't leave me…Ah'm sorry…Ah'm so sorry…"  
  
Hank skidded into the room a few minutes later, having heard her cries as he stepped off the elevator into the sub-basement, on his way to check on them. He wasted no time running over to her and pulling on her shoulders. "Rogue…Rogue sit up. I need to see Madeline."  
  
Her eyes were painfully red and soaked with a thousand tears, but she uncurled her body and let him take her baby. "She…she's not…Ah didn't touch her, Ah swear. Ah don' know…" Rogue shook her head.   
  
Hank laid Madeline onto an exam table. Biting the inside of his cheek, he took a gamble and gently began to rub the tiny baby's back.   
  
Just then, Remy burst into the lab wearing nothing but boxers and an untied white robe. "W'at goin' on? Somet'ing told me t'get down here an'…" He stopped upon seeing Rogue sitting on the floor, crying, and Hank trying to urge life back into his daughter. "Non…non." He shook his head, refusing to acknowledge what was going on. "Mon Dieu…non…sil vous plait…"  
  
"Ah'm sorry," Rogue repeated through her sobs. "Ah didn't…Ah just wanted…t'hold her…"  
  
"It's all right," Hank said to them a moment later. "Look." As he continued to rub, Madeline gave a choked cough, opened her mouth and began to scream. "Her color's coming back…she's breathing." He smiled. "She's crying. She's fine."  
  
Remy ran both hands down his face. "W'at happened, mon ami?"  
  
"If I had to make a guess, I'd say Madeline has apnea." He raised his voice to be heard over Madeline's cries. "A very common thing for a premature baby. Because her brain isn't completely developed yet, it temporarily forgot to send the message to her lungs to keep working. But it's all right, as you can see. Just a little bit of patting, and it all comes back to her. Now that I know, medications can help prevent it from happening again."   
  
Rogue shook her head. "It was me…Ah hurt her…Ah hurt everyone."  
  
"No, Rogue," Hank said firmly. "It was not you. This is a condition that most premature babies face. Honestly, I should have been looking for it. My oversight caused this panic, and I do apologize. But she's fine, and more than that, she's crying now."   
  
Remy's smile returned. "Listen t'her, chere. She have your lungs."   
  
"Ah made my baby cry," she said quietly.   
  
"Dat a good t'ing," Remy assured her.  
  
"Rogue." The blue doctor picked up Madeline as Remy gently tugged Rogue to her feet. "Look at your baby. She's fine, and getting better by the day. We had one, unexpected complication, but now that it's passed…" He offered the baby to her.   
  
If her back hadn't been pressed against Remy's chest, she would have jumped back. As it was, she shook her head vigorously against him. "No…Ah can't."  
  
"Take her, ma belle," her fiancé urged. "You got t'know dat you can. Everyt'ing not your fault."  
  
Rogue broke away from him, fleeing to a safe distance. "Ah pumped enough milk for the day," she said, wiping at her wet cheeks. "Tell me when ya need more."  
  
"Rogue," Hank began.  
  
At the same time, Remy started, "Chere…"  
  
"Ah can't!!" she screamed, the cry rivaling Madeline's. "Ah can't take her…Ah can't hold her. Ah can't be that normal momma she needs!!" Rogue backed up a few more steps.   
  
Hank looked down at the baby. "Where are you going?"  
  
"Away," she told him. "Just…keep me away from her. For her own good."  
  
Remy cursed when she ran out of the infirmary. "Gambit be righ' back, mon ami." He ran after her, his bare feet slapping against the cold metal floor.   
  
He caught up with her in front of the elevator doors. She was waiting for the doors to open, her face buried in her hands. "Don' do dis, chere," he said as he came up behind her. "You regret it…rest o' your life."   
  
"Ah think Ah'd regret killin' my baby a 'lil bit more," was her muffled reply.   
  
"Madeline be fine now," Remy thundered. He hated raising his voice to her, but he couldn't help it. They'd come so far, yet now it seemed they were right back at square one. After taking a breath, he placed his hands on her slender, shaking shoulders. "You didn' hurt her, ma chere." Rogue shook her head. A moment passed. "Dere not supposed to be nothin' but happiness for us from now on. Remember?"  
  
"Remy." She lifted her head; her gloves were soaked with her tears. Turning her head, she looked at him. "We don' get happiness, sugah. It ain' in our cards."   
  
It took a long time for him to answer. "Gambit don' believe dat, chere."   
  
"Believe it." The elevator doors slid open. Rogue turned around and stepped inside. With quick, decisive motions, she slipped the diamond ring off her gloved finger and held it out to him. "Ah can't marry ya. Ah can't pretend Ah'm normal anymore."  
  
"Gambit startin' t'hate dat word," he said in a voice she'd never heard before. "Normal."  
  
"It's somethin' ya deserve. Somethin' she deserves."   
  
Remy looked at her, his expression blank. "Dat's your ring. Gambit won' take it back."   
  
The doors began to move. Rogue closed her trembling fingers around the diamond. "Ah'm sorry, Remy." After she pulled her arm back towards her chest, the elevator shut and lifted, separating them by more than just distance.   
  
****  
  
The Professor woke up with the heaviest sense of grief pressing on his chest. He sat up in bed, and brushed away an impending tear. It always hurt him the most when members of his family were in pain.   
  
****  
  
To Be Continued 


	12. One fine day

Disclaimer: Characters are sooo not mine.   
  
Author's Notes: More thanks are in order for all the reviews. I appreciate the kind words very much. Angst and drama are so much fun, aren't they? But they must come to an end...eventually;) Enjoy...   
  
****   
  
Unexpected   
  
by Kristen Elizabeth   
  
****   
  
The bar, a slightly seedy roadhouse only two miles away from the mansion, was a favorite for the men of the X-Men. If something was bothering one of them that the Danger Room couldn't take care of, they could inevitably be found there, nursing a beer or something stronger.   
  
When Logan entered the joint two weeks after Storm had single-handedly pulled herself out of his life, he wasn't entirely surprised to find another member of the team sitting at the end of the bar, staring at a full shot glass of amber liquid. Shaking his head, Logan started towards him.   
  
"Gumbo," he addressed the man. "Drinkin' before noon?"   
  
"Don' see how it your business," Remy replied tersely. He picked up the little glass and drained it without so much as a wince. "Anot'er," he told the man behind the bar.   
  
As the bartender refilled the glass with Jim Beam, Logan sat in the stool next to him. "The same," he ordered.   
  
They sat in silence for a long time, Remy sipping at his fifth shot and Logan downing his first and signaling for a second.   
  
"We make one sad pair, mon ami," the Cajun man chuckled bitterly. "Suppose dat's w'at we get...lovin' de strongest femmes in de world." Logan made a non-committal grunt in reply. "Least you be knowin' dat yours love you back."   
  
The small amount of alcohol shouldn't have even started to affect his impenetrable system, but the other man actually answered with a very quiet, very sad, "She doesn't love me."   
  
"You be jokin' wit' dis Caj'n?" Remy shook his head. "Stormy love you for years. Don' need no special gift t'be seein' dat." Because there was enough alcohol rushing through his veins, he continued, "Maybe you don' see it...only havin' eyes for de one femme you can't ever have."   
  
Logan slammed his glass onto the bar. "Keep your trap shut 'bout things you don't know."   
  
"But Gambit do know dis, mon ami. You t'ink you ever been subtle 'bout it? Don' nobody t'ink you love Mrs. Summers no more, but dere was a time..." He finished his shot. "An' all dat time, ma Storm love you. God himself know why." Remy caught the bartender's eye and pointed to his empty glass.   
  
Logan held up his hand, cutting the other man off. "You gonna drag your ass home drunk *and* bruised? Hank won't let you anywhere near your daughter."   
  
This proved better than a quart of coffee at almost instantly sobering Remy up. "Ma Madeline already lost her mamán." He waved away the bartender when the man reached to refill his glass, despite Logan's intervention. "Gambit not much o' a papa, but she need me."   
  
"Rogue's still not come around?"   
  
The question hung in the air until Remy jerked his head slightly. "She give our bébé milk an' not'ing else."   
  
Logan raised his third shot to his lips. "And...the weddin'?"   
  
"Why you care?" Remy's eyes flashed as he turned them onto the shorter man. "It be no secret dat you don' like dis Caj'n."   
  
"I *don't* care," Logan assured him, kicking back the liquor. "But I also don't figure One-Eye should be the only one of us who gets his gal."   
  
"Dat some powerful grudge you be holdin', mon ami."   
  
The other man winced as the heat of the cheap whiskey burned a path to his stomach. "Not so much anymore. Just can't let him know it," he said. "But Jeannie knows. It ain't like she expected me to pine after her forever."   
  
"Maybe dis be somet'ing you should be tellin' Stormy?" Remy suggested.   
  
Logan's brow pulled into a scowl. "She should know."   
  
"How could she, if you don' be..."   
  
"Remy? Remy LeBeau?" Both men turned their heads to see the curvy brunette approaching them with a wide smile on her painted lips. "Well, well. What's it been? A million years?" She pouted prettily. "I haven't seen you since that night that we...you know."   
  
He didn't have to think hard to remember the night to which she referred; contrary to popular belief, there hadn't been many of them since he'd fallen in love with Rogue. But this one had been after a particularly nasty fight. He'd come to the bar, gotten rip-roaring drunk and met up with...   
  
"Laura." Remy shook his head as she slid into the empty chair on his other side. "Sometime I wonder if I be punished for de sins o' dis life...or dis life *an'* anot'er."   
  
She slipped her arm through his. "Are you going to introduce me to your friend?"   
  
Logan looked at him. "Think I got it, Gumbo. Laura. One-night stand." He took a sip from his refreshed drink. "So much for not carin' about sex."   
  
"Dere a lot 'bout dat nigh' dat I don' recall. But I do know dat I didn'...you know."   
  
The woman's hard blue eyes smoldered. "Everything but, honey." She hooked her arm through his. "Of course...if you want to rectify that...I'm available anytime."   
  
"I'm sure you are," Logan snorted. "Wonder what Rogue'll have to say about this."   
  
"Who's Rogue?" Laura asked, clinging to Remy a bit harder.   
  
Remy paused for a long minute as he contemplated that simple question. Who was Rogue? Was she just the last in a long line of women who'd come in and out of his life, making living it both a pleasure and a misery? Was she just the mother of his child? Or was she more...the only woman he'd ever loved with his adult heart, free and clear of any obligations or outside influences...the woman he saw himself growing old and wrinkled with...the woman he wanted with every cell in his body, but whom he'd be quite content to only touch through the safety of material barriers until the day he died? Maybe she was all of the above, everything...everything good he had in his life.   
  
It only took one glance at the woman cuddling up to him for him to realize that this was not what he wanted. Yes, it would be very easy to take Laura up on her offer, to give himself what he'd loved since he was a gangly fourteen year-old boy lying spent in the supple arms of a much older woman in the heat of a French Quarter loft. But his heart wouldn't be in it. His heart would never be in it again if it wasn't Rogue's arms around his neck, Rogue's warm breath against his ear, Rogue's fingers tangled in his hair. And if she couldn't see that...well, he wasn't about to follow Logan's example and just assume that she'd figure it out on her own eventually. He'd tell her, he'd scream it as loud and as long as he had to until she believed him. Whatever it took, he'd make her know that he loved her, unconditionally.   
  
He'd never backed down from a challenge he knew he could overcome; it wasn't his style. He was willing to do anything it took, even if that meant playing dirty, or underhanded or unconventionally. But he liked winning. In the gambit of his life, Remy always tried to come out on top. He wasn't about to start losing everything he'd ever wanted, just when he finally got it.   
  
"Rogue be de mamán o' my bébé," he told the voluptuous woman, prying her away from his side. "An' de only woman I be available for."   
  
Laura blinked, as though she couldn't understand him. "You got married?"   
  
Remy gritted his teeth. "Not quite yet, petit."   
  
"Then..." Her lips curved up. "What's the problem?"   
  
"The problem is this, darlin'." Logan set his glass down with a dangerous smile. "The Cajun's got himself enough problems without addin' your name to the list. So, go play somewhere else. Ain't nobody interested here."   
  
The woman shook her head after a long second of staring at the two men. "Your loss." She slid off the bar stool and stalked off with a flounce of her hair and a dirty look.   
  
Remy signaled to the bartender again, but this time for the tab he'd racked up. "Got t'get back," he mumbled. "Got t'see my girls."   
  
"Not like this, you don't." Logan snatched the bill away from him and pulled out his wallet. "I'll get this. You go dunk that ugly head of yours in the bathroom sink a couple of times, and then we're gonna figure out a way to get Rogue to marry you."   
  
"Why you helpin' Gambit, mon ami?"   
  
The other man tossed down enough money to cover their tab. "'Cause. You're gonna help me."   
  
Remy lifted an eyebrow and stumbled a bit as he tried to stand. "I am? Wit' w'at?"   
  
"Ro." He replaced his wallet in his back pocket. "You know her better than anyone. And you're gonna tell me what I need to do to get her back."   
  
The Cajun man grinned, still loopy from the excessive amount of whiskey he'd downed. "Dat make us partners, you know dis?"   
  
"Temporarily," Logan assured him. "I just don't like comin' into my bar and seein' you slobberin' all over it."   
  
Before he could stop him, Remy slung an arm around his shoulders. "Admit it, mon ami. We make a good team, oui? You know...ma chere...she want t'make you godfat'er to ma Madeline. Gambit t'ink it be a good idea. Dere nobody can keep her safe as you." The alcohol had hit him fully now, making him tear up. "If somet'ing happen t'me...an' ma chere never come 'round t'her senses..."   
  
"All right, Gumbo." With a vague look of disgust on his face, Logan dragged him towards the exit. "You cry all over me, I'll kick your ass all the way back to the house."   
  
****   
  
"How can Rogue stay away from her?" Storm looked down at her index finger. Rogue and Remy's daughter had her tiny fingers wrapped around it in a surprisingly strong grip, bringing to life every maternal instinct she possessed.   
  
Hank glanced up from adjusting the tube leading into Madeline's stomach. "Perhaps because she might never be able to do what you're doing right now."   
  
Sighing, the white-haired woman eased her finger out of the baby's grip and wheeled away from the exam table. It was silly, she thought, still being confined to this contraption. But Hank had ordered her into it for at least another week, despite the fact that her wounds were almost completely healed. "She is feeling sorry for herself. And perhaps she has every right in the world to...for a time, at least. But she cannot be as selfish as she has been in the past anymore. She has a child who needs her now."   
  
"Have you considered telling her this?" Hank took the bottle of milk that Rogue had expressed in the privacy of her own room just that morning. "If you don't, I might."   
  
She watched him feed drop after drop into the gastric tube. "Poor precious," she whispered to Madeline. "As if your life isn't going to be tough enough." Storm paused. "What right do I have lecturing to Rogue when my own life is hardly in working order?"   
  
"You are her friend. Her leader." He capped the little bottle with a sigh. "And no one else seems willing to pull her out of the hole she's dug for herself."   
  
"Jubilee's tried, bless her heart. Do you know what Rogue said?" Without waiting for an answer, Storm continued, "She asked her if she was in the market for a diamond ring. I've never seen Jubilee so upset and I don't think it was because she won't be wearing her bridesmaid dress anytime soon."   
  
"We all want to believe that Rogue and Gambit will eventually be able to solve their problems, especially now..." Hank smiled down at the tiny baby on his exam table. "...that this little angel has come along." His smile fell. "But none of us have ever tried to be in a relationship with the sort of limitations theirs has. Perhaps we cannot ever truly understand why it doesn't seem able to work."   
  
"Why what doesn't seem able to work?" Scott entered the infirmary on the heels of the conversation.   
  
Storm pursed her lips. "We were just indulging in a moment of gossip."   
  
"Ah." He nodded at her. "How are you feeling?"   
  
"Much better. I hope to begin some light exercise within the week." She waited for Hank's approving nod. "Will the team make it until then?"   
  
Scott sighed. "There's not been much of a team to work with lately. Rogue's holed up in her room, Jubilee has her classes, you've been out of commission, Hank, you've had your hands full, Gambit comes and goes, and Wolverine's been even more of a ray of sunshine than usual. I shudder to think what we'd do if there were a crisis right now."   
  
"'The task of a great leader is to get his people from where they are to where they have not been,'" Hank quoted. "Henry Kissinger."   
  
"I'll remember that," Scott replied, dryly. His frown lifted when he spotted Madeline. "She is cute."   
  
"Ever think about havin' one, Cyke?" Logan asked from the doorway, startling the people inside, especially Storm who immediately looked away from his intense stare. "You know...in this dimension?"   
  
The team leader sighed again and shook his head. "Storm, when you're feeling up to it, we'll work out a new training program for the few team members left who actually want to train." The sharp words were aimed directly at Logan as Scott brushed past him on his way out, but the shorter man barely felt them.   
  
"Ro," Logan began. "We need to talk, darlin'."   
  
She lifted her chin. "We do? About what?"   
  
Hank cleared his throat, suddenly feeling quite like the proverbial third wheel. "If you two wish to talk, could you possibly go elsewhere? Miss Madeline requires her beauty sleep."   
  
Logan moved forwards, grabbing the handles on Storm's wheelchair before she could move away from him. Frowning, she stood up. "What are you doin'?" he asked, roughly. "You ain't hardly healed yet."   
  
"How would you know?" she shot back.   
  
"Excuse me?" Hank gestured to the baby. "Elsewhere. Please."   
  
Still frowning, Storm eased back into the chair and let herself be rolled out into the hallway. But as soon as the infirmary doors shut, she grabbed the wheels and spun out his control. "Logan, what is there for us to talk about?"   
  
He took a breath. "Ro...look. I don't quite know how we managed to fuck everything up this badly, but..." He stopped suddenly.   
  
"But, what?" she prompted. "Logan...what is it?"   
  
"I just...I miss you, Ro. I wake up alone, and I want you there beside me."   
  
Storm's eyes clouded over. "You miss me in your bed."   
  
"Yeah." Logan blinked. "Wait, no."   
  
"You miss getting off without any emotional complications," she continued, spitting the words out with a fair amount of venom.   
  
He shook his head. "If you think that, darlin', you don't know me at all. What I'm tryin' to say is..."   
  
"You're trying to say something you don't need to, Logan. I'm perfectly aware that I've merely been a substitute for someone you've always wanted, but can't have. And maybe if I loved you...it would upset me. But it doesn't." She swallowed the lie. "We work well together, in battle and in bed. Not everything has to be more than that."   
  
Logan put a hand on either arm of her wheelchair and leaned in so close that she could smell the whisper of alcohol on his breath. "What if I want more?"   
  
"I'm not the one you want it from," she replied, unable to look away from him this time. "Am I?"   
  
"Do you see me tryin' to say this stuff to her?"   
  
Storm blinked. Just around Logan's thick body, she saw a flash of green. He frowned, sensing the movement behind him, and turned his head to identify it. "Rogue," she said before he could. The woman in question backed up a few steps. "Wait!"   
  
"Ah didn' mean to interrupt. Ah just...Ah wanted to check...to see if Hank needed...anymore milk," Rogue said, pulling at a loose thread on her cut-off jeans.   
  
"Darlin'," Logan said, giving her a look. "Go see your baby, for god's sake."   
  
She shook her head tightly, her curls swinging back and forth. "Ah can't. Just tell me..." Her teeth tugged at her lower lip. "Is she okay?"   
  
"I'm not going to tell you, Rogue," Storm said firmly. "And I'll order every single person in this house to keep quiet on the subject until you snap out of your self-pity and remember that you can't just think about yourself anymore."   
  
The words slapped Rogue across the face. Almost instantly, her defenses went up and she lashed out. "How the hell would ya know anythin' 'bout what Ah'm goin' through?" she snapped. "Ah guess it's too much to 'spect my friends to understand." Backing up, she continued, "'Sides...my baby's got one good parent who can hold her and help her and not kill her. What does she need her soul-suckin' momma for?"   
  
"The key word there is 'momma'. There's too many children upstairs who would give anything to have the love of their mother, for me to sit idly by and watch you deny your own child that which others have never known." Holding her side where a few stitches still remained, Storm leaned forward. "And there's too many people in the world who will never know love for you throw it away without consideration."   
  
Rogue turned her head. "Ya'll don' know..." She sniffed. "If ya'll would just wrench yer own heads outta yer asses an' tell each other that yer in love...maybe then Ah'd be a 'lil more inclined to listen to ya." She looked back only to see them staring at each other. "Yeah. Ya'll just don' know."   
  
She ran for the elevator and jammed her thumb against the button until the doors opened. The ride to the second story of the house seemed like hours, but she managed to keep her tears at bay. She was so tired of crying. So tired of fighting. So tired of sneaking around to see her daughter. That's all she ever did, steal a peek or two here and there, usually at midnight after everyone had gone to bed.   
  
Somehow, it seemed worse to only look at Madeline through the plastic, like some sort of outcast. But she'd cast herself out, she'd remind herself, for her daughter's sake. It had been the right thing to do. At least, that's what she kept telling herself.   
  
And as for Remy...well, that had been the right thing to do, as well. Erik might not have been right about him cheating on her or her darning his socks...she couldn't even thread a needle...but he was right about her wanting more. She did want everything a marriage to the man she loved should have entitled her to. It was torture enough to slip down to the boathouse on the nights she visited Madeline, and watch him toss and turn in his sleep, knowing that she was the cause of his restlessness. If she married him and shared a bed with him for the rest of her life, she'd only be torturing him, as well.   
  
Better to let them both go before she ruined Madeline's life, or possibly ended it, and messed up Remy's more than she already had.   
  
The elevator stopped on the first level. Rogue frowned at the control panel. "C'mon...keep goin'." She was not in the mood to be around any more people that day.   
  
But the doors opened anyways and refused to close, even when she continuously pressed the button to do so. With a resigned sigh, Rogue stormed out of the elevator car and started for the main staircase.   
  
She reached the first step and looked up. At the top of the stairs, Remy stood, his arms folded over his chest. He looked down at her with a jaunty smile on his face. "Mademoiselle," he said, his voice echoing through the huge, open space.   
  
Rogue glanced around. "What the hell are ya doin??"   
  
"Mademoiselle...de love o' my life!! De mamán o' my bébé Madeline." Several students poked their heads out of the parlor and the kitchen, but he continued as though they weren't there. "De only femme t'ever break dis Caj'n's heart an' heal it up in de same day!"   
  
Her cheeks felt like they were on fire. "Are ya drunk, swamp rat? 'Cause if ya are..."   
  
He took three steps down, unfolding his arms to reach out one to her. "W'at must a pauvre voleur..." Remy stopped and looked to one side at the students who had appeared at the banister to watch. "Mes amis petits...dat means...?"   
  
"Poor thief!" one little girl yelled.   
  
"Trés bien." He looked back at Rogue. "W'at must he do t'get dat femme back?"   
  
"Okay...now Ah know yer drunk," Rogue said, rolling her eyes. But she remained where she was.   
  
"Maybe he need t'give up his life o' gamblin' an' t'ieving an' use his power t'help ot'ers." He paused. "But he done dat." A wicked smile spread on his handsome face. "For de mos' part."   
  
Jubilee pushed her way through the crowd of students until she could see the scene unfolding on the stairs.   
  
Remy took another step down. "Maybe he need t'cross a continent, fightin' de snow an' de ice t'get back t'her." He paused again. "But he done dat, too."   
  
"Remy, Ah..."   
  
He cut her off. "Maybe he need t'tell her dat he never knew w'at happiness be 'til he meet her. Dat's why he believe in it...he feel it every time he look at her."   
  
Rogue swallowed. "Ya know...when ya sober up, yer really gonna regret this..." Her words trailed off as he took two more steps.   
  
"Maybe he need t'thank her again...for bringin' his Madeline into de world. For all de pain an' sufferin' she went t'rough t'make it happen."   
  
She turned her gaze down to the hard wood floor as Bobby, Kitty, Jean and Scott showed up to see what was going on. "She did it gladly," she whispered.   
  
Another couple of steps brought him even closer to her. "Maybe...he need t'give her dis." Remy reached into his brown coat and pulled out the velvet box he'd been saving for weeks. "Since she don' want de diamond no more...maybe she like de heart." He opened the box and held it out to her. "He'd give her his own, but she already have it. She have it for years."   
  
Her chin trembled. "What are ya doin'? Ah already told ya..."   
  
"Rogue," he said, suddenly sober. "I ask you t'marry me before, so I won' ask again. But I will ask you somet'ing else."   
  
"What's that?" A tear slid down her cheek.   
  
"My life don' be normal. Your life don' be normal. Madeline's life won' be normal." He smiled and looked around. "Anyone here got a normal life...raise dose petit hands now." No one moved and he looked back at Rogue. "Here's dis Caj'n's question t'you. Will you be a not-normal mamán to our fille?" He took the last two steps down to her and lifted the necklace from the velvet. " Will you share dis not-normal life wit' me?"   
  
She looked up at him with wet eyes. "Ye've never even heard a word Ah've said 'bout why this ain' never gonna work, have ya?"   
  
"Gambit hear fine, chere," he replied. "He just don' listen t't'ings he don' like." He put a gloved finger to her lips, ignoring the chorus of giggles from the students. "You migh' t'ink him a fool for all dis...but if you turn your back on happiness, you de fool, amour."   
  
"Erik said..."   
  
"What did he say, Rogue?" Storm asked, wheeling herself off the other elevator with Logan just behind her. "What did he say that could possibly matter?"   
  
She looked around again. "Ah feel like Ah'm bein' tag-teamed here, ya'll."   
  
"You are, darlin'," Logan reassured her.   
  
Rogue scowled. "Ah don' take kindly to it."   
  
"I don' want t'spend anot'er day wit'out you bein' my wife," Remy told her, quite plainly. "We been waitin' for years already, chere. Why you want t'wait more?"   
  
"Ah..." She licked her lips, tasting salt. "Ah don'."   
  
One very impatient little girl hanging over the banister yelled out, "Just say yes!!"   
  
Remy jerked a thumb back towards the outspoken student. "Out o' de mout' o' babes, ne?"   
  
"Remy," she lowered her voice, as not to have the entire household hear her. "Why are ya doin' this?"   
  
He blinked. "Because, ma chere. I love you. An' you love me. If you be needin' proof o' dat...she be downstairs sleepin' like un ange de ciel." Remy leaned in to her. "I can't be a papa on my own anymore den you can be a mamán by yourself. W'at you say we do it toget'er?"   
  
"Do ya ever lose an argument?"   
  
"Dis not 'bout winnin', chere. Gambit don' win dis 'til he standin' next t'you in front o' de priest, sayin' 'I do'."   
  
Rogue released a pent-up breath. "Yer takin' on a lot, swamp rat. All my baggage...an' ya won' even be gettin' anythin' outta it."   
  
"You still t'ink so little o' dis Caj'n?" Anger inched through his adrenaline high. "After all o' dis?!"   
  
"No." She covered her mouth with shaking fingers. "No, 'course not. Ah just...it's easier if Ah think..." Rogue hung her head. "God...Ah've been such a selfish bitch!!"   
  
"Careful," Remy warned her. "Dat be my girl you talkin' 'bout."   
  
Without stopping to think anymore, Rogue threw her arms around his neck. "Ah have been!" she cried into his shoulder, forgetting that there was anyone in the house but them. "Ah've been horrible to you...Ah've abandoned my baby...Ah've locked *myself* up an' tried to throw away the key so ya couldn' reach me. But ya always do, swamp rat." She clung to him tighter. "Ya always do."   
  
Still holding the necklace, he slid his hands around her back, holding her just as tight. "I be a t'ief, ma belle. I pick locks."   
  
She laughed in spite of her herself and pulled back to see him. "Ah wanna spend my not-normal life with ya. But is it okay if Ah keep wantin' more?" She bit her lip. "Ah'm always gonna want to touch ya. To hold her. To be normal. More normal," she corrected herself.   
  
Remy stroked her hair. "We never stop tryin', chere. Dat be a promise."   
  
Rogue nodded and looked down at his hands. "Can Ah have this an' the diamond?"   
  
Instead of replying, he turned her around and swept her hair over her shoulder. Within seconds, he had the necklace fastened around her slender throat. He moved his lips as close to her ear as he could. "You can have it all."   
  
And even though the words weren't technically true, Rogue turned around and embraced him again. Neither of them heard the hoots, hollers or applause that went up as their second engagement was sealed.   
  
Breaking away from her after kissing her hair, Remy started for the front door. "Where are ya goin'?" she called out.   
  
"T'get de priest," he called back. "He been waitin' in de car long enough, don' you t'ink?"   
  
****   
  
Remy and Rogue became Mr. and Mrs. LeBeau that afternoon in the opulent dining room, surrounded by their friends...their family, and most importantly, their daughter who was brought up for the ceremony and carried by her godfather. Instead of the maternity wedding gown that had been sewn for her, the bride wore a simple white slip dress and elbow-length gloves, and carried an armful of Queen Anne's Lace from the gardens.   
  
The vows were simple, the same ones that had been pledged by generations of couples in love. Rogue's stare never broke away from Remy's as she repeated them; she was afraid that if she lost contact, she might wake up in a cold bed, alone and crying. But it wasn't a dream anymore. It was even better.   
  
When the priest gave the groom permission to kiss his bride, he did just that. A brush of his lips across hers, the lightest, briefest contact possible. It made Rogue's head spin, feeling the very edge of Remy's soul bleed into her. He was already so much there that it didn't seem to matter. She opened her eyes and looked up into her husband's for the first time.   
  
"Dat won' be de last time," he promised her as the priest announced their marriage to the small crowd gathered to witness it.   
  
The party that followed went on well into the evening, but the bride and groom didn't stick around for it. Neither did they spend their first night as newlyweds in any secluded spot, loving until dawn. The first hours of their marriage were spent in the infirmary, holding hands as they watched their daughter sleep.   
  
"Remy," Rogue whispered after hours of content silence.   
  
"Hmm?"   
  
"Ah want ya to know..." She turned her head from its resting place on her arm to see him better. "Ah'm really happy."   
  
He smiled sleepily. "Me too, ma chere."   
  
Remy fell asleep not long after that, but Rogue stayed awake. She'd spent too many days away from her baby, lost too many hours to her own self-pity; she was determined not to miss another minute.   
  
Sometime just before dawn, the little hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Rogue glanced over at her new husband; his breath was heavy and steady, and he showed no signs of waking up any time soon. She sat up straight and glanced around.   
  
A dark shape stepped out of the shadows and she froze. "What are ya doin' here?" It was all Rogue could do to get the words out of her mouth.   
  
"You didn't think I'd miss my daughter's wedding day, did you?" Mystique asked, coyly.   
  
Rogue shook her head. "No. Ah just hoped."   
  
****   
  
To Be Continued 


	13. Fumbling towards ecstasy

Disclaimer: Never pretended that I came up with these characters on my own.   
  
Author's Notes: Well, now that the site is back up and running, we can get back to the normal updating schedule, knock on wood. I wanted to thank everyone who's reviewed thus far, especially those of you who reviewed between June 10th and June 14th. I got all of your kind reviews, but the site didn't record them and now they're missing. Just wanted to give you a special shout-out. Enjoy this next chapter! And thanks, again.  
  
****  
  
Unexpected  
  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
Well if you knew how much this moment means to me  
  
And how long I've waited for your touch  
  
And if you knew how happy you are making me  
  
I never thought that I'd love anyone so much  
  
It feels like home to me  
  
It feels like I'm all the way back where I come from  
  
It feels like home to me  
  
It feels like I'm all the way back where I belong.  
  
-Chantal Kreviazuk  
  
****   
  
"Are you okay, darlin? I didn't hurt you, did I?"   
  
Storm opened her eyes as he pulled out of their intimate lock, instantly missing the feeling of his heat within hers. "I assure you, Logan. I am feeling no pain."   
  
With a sigh, he laid down next to her, sweaty body alongside sweaty body. A long moment passed between them. "What are we doing, Ro?"   
  
"Sex," she replied, simply. "In honor of Remy and Rogue's wedding and the removal of my last few stitches."   
  
If Storm had glanced over, she would have seen him frown. "We gotta figure this thing out," Logan said. "What we are...what we want."   
  
"I don't think we're ready yet," she whispered a second later. "Maybe we won't ever be. Maybe we're just destined to be good friends who are good in bed, and that's it."   
  
He ran his hand down his face. "Is that what you want?" She said nothing. "That's what I'm tryin' to tell you." Logan rolled onto his side to see her better. "I want…"  
  
She placed her slender fingers against his lips. "There's nothing wrong with what we have here."  
  
He grabbed her hand in a gentle, but unbreakable grip. "What are you afraid of, Ro?"  
  
"Nothing," Storm said, completely unconvincingly. "And you are the one who couldn't say the words, remember?"  
  
Logan released her and fell back down onto the pillows. "Yeah. That sounds about right."   
  
"It's all right, Logan." She propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at him. "If watching Remy and Rogue's struggles has taught me anything it's that when you're given any small amount of happiness, you should take it, and not sit around wishing for something more. You make me happy." She pressed a soft kiss onto the broad plane of his chest. "Do I make you happy?"  
  
He closed his eyes as her kisses trailed down the toned ridges of his stomach. "Darlin'…you have no idea."  
  
"Then…" She straddled his legs and hit him with her most sultry look. "…we should take that. And not concern ourselves with the details."  
  
Logan bucked under the pleasure of her mouth, but managed to say, "Someday, Ro. You're gonna want the details."   
  
Storm lifted her head. "We will worry about that someday. But not right now."  
  
He shook his head, as she loved him with the tip of her tongue. "No…not right now."  
  
****  
  
Mystique held up both hands. "I come in peace."   
  
Rogue had to laugh. "Ya come in peace?" She tilted her head to one side. "Momma." The word came out without any of the affection afforded to such a bond. "Ya ain' never learned the meanin' o' the word."   
  
"A low blow, but not entirely untrue," the woman who'd raised her admitted.   
  
"Just how the hell do ya keep gettin' in here, anyway? We're supposed to have a foolproof intruder alert thing goin' on."   
  
"Don't insult my intelligence by insinuating that I shouldn't be able to get around Charles Xavier's alarm system."   
  
Rogue shook her head, more inclined to be angered than amused. "Ya should prob'ly tell me what yer comin' in peace to do, an' quick. If Remy wakes up…well…let's just say yer not his favorite person lately." She paused. "Come to think o' it…yer not mine either." She pointed a finger at the red-haired woman. "Ya drugged me an' took me to Erik."   
  
"Yes, I did."   
  
Justified rage swelled just beneath her breast. "Do ya have any idea what he did to me?? He fed me stuff…stuff that made my baby come too early." She gestured to Madeline. "Look at her. She's perfect, but she almost didn' make it. Would ya have even cared if she hadn'?"   
  
Mystique's eyes narrowed. "You're going to believe what you will, child, but I would never knowingly harm my daughter's daughter."   
  
"Then, why'd ya do it?"   
  
The simple question hung in the air. Mystique ignored it for a moment as she studied the tiny baby in the incubator. "She'll favor you, not the Cajun, thankfully."   
  
"Leave Remy outta this," Rogue snapped. "Or Ah'll wake him up an' let him play cards with yer ass."   
  
"You'd do that to your own mother?"   
  
She swore softly. "Yer not my momma. If ya felt anythin' for me like what Ah feel for Madeline, ya couldn've handed me over to the one person Ah hate more than anyone."   
  
"Erik only said he wanted to talk to you; he never mentioned anything about keeping you drugged," Mystique calmly replied. "And I went along with it…because I care for you. As a mother."   
  
"Sure."   
  
"I want what's best for you, my Rogue."   
  
Rogue shook her head violently. "No, ya don'. The only thing ya've ever wanted outta me is what's best for whatever plot ya've got goin'. Are ya still pissed that Ah don' jump at yer beck an' call anymore? Does it still burn ya up that Ah joined the good guys?"   
  
"Good is a relative term." Mystique's gaze shifted to Remy as he slept. "Your X-Men claim not to kill, yet they welcome back killers with open arms."   
  
"Ah told ya…"   
  
The older woman cut her off. "I had hopes that you would work him out of your system. But then I was informed that not only were you planning on having his baby, but you were actually going to tie yourself to him for life." She paused. "I couldn't let it happen."   
  
"Ah don' figure how it's any bit yer choice to make."   
  
Mystique lifted her shoulders nonchalantly. "One day, you will understand. When your own child grows beyond your reach, falls in love, begins planning her life without your input…you'll know why I did what I did."   
  
"Ah am beyond yer reach. An' Ah am in love," Rogue said softly. "This big ol' lump of Cajun righ' here…Ah love him so much it hurts sometimes. It kinda balances. The lovin' an' the hurtin'. Lord knows we've done enough o' both to each other."   
  
"You think he loves you?"   
  
She shook her head. "Ah don' think. Ah know."   
  
"Perhaps. For the time being, he might find marriage amusing. But eventually…"   
  
"Ya know somethin'?" Rogue put her hands on her hips. "Ah've turned that same damn thought over in my head so many times…Ah really don' need everyone else doin' it for me. Maybe Remy won' ever be able to get from me the only thing ya'll seem to think he wants…or maybe it's not even that. Maybe it's just the only thing ya'll think Ah've got that's worth anythin'."   
  
Mystique sighed. "That is not what I…"   
  
"What ya'll don' realize is that he loved me a long time before we got stuck in that cave together. An' he's gonna love me a long time after. If that really was the only nigh' we're ever gonna get, it was enough. We got Madeline outta it, an' made a good memory. A really good memory." She took a step towards her surrogate mother. "Ain' ya all for mutant rights?" Mystique arched one eyebrow. "Well, the only righ' this mutant wants is the righ' to live her life with the man she loves, who for some crazy reason, loves her back."   
  
"Dear child…"   
  
Rogue stepped back. "Make no mistake, **Momma**. This mutant'll fight for that with every breath she's got. Are ya gonna keep tryin' to take it away from her?"   
  
Mystique let out another little sigh, and sideswiped the question yet again by looking at Madeline, the undeniable proof of the love her daughter spoke about. "If all of this truly makes you happy…" She looked back up at Rogue. "That's your problem."   
  
"Yer maternal compassion is overwhelmin' me," Rogue muttered. "Next time ya get the urge to drop by in the middle o' the nigh', try to remember that we don' really like ya here. So…"   
  
"You're going to be a good mother," Mystique said, shortly and simply.   
  
The younger woman looked down at her gloved hands, caught off guard by the tender statement. "Ah'm gonna try." Her wistful gaze drifted to Remy. "He's gonna help me."   
  
"I believe that you believe that." Before Rogue could protest, she continued, "And that will just have to be good enough for me. And for Erik." She moved closer. "It is your life and your heart. As long as you know that they're safe with him, it ought not matter to anyone else. Even me."   
  
Rogue dipped her head in a nod of acknowledgement. "Bye, Momma."   
  
Before Mystique slipped back into the shadows, she gave her surrogate daughter one more look. "Don't give up hope, my child. There is always a way."   
  
She was gone as quickly as she had appeared. Rogue blinked; it was almost easy to imagine that the entire conversation had just been her imagination. Until Remy spoke.   
  
"You all righ', ma chere?"   
  
"How long ya been awake, swamp rat?"   
  
"Long enough." He lifted his head and scratched his cheek where the folds in the sleeve of his tuxedo jacket had left impressions on his skin. "Gambit would've jumped in wit' cards flyin', but it seem like you doin' fine on your own."   
  
Rogue walked up behind him, wrapped her arms around his chest, and rested the side of her head on his back. "Thanks, sugah." She let out a tired sigh. "It's been a long day."   
  
He covered her hands with his, stroking her through the sheer, white material. "Dis not de way I ever t'ought I'd be spendin' my weddin' night…" He paused just long enough to incite her temper before continuing, "But I like it, chere. I like it."   
  
She rolled her eyes at him, but squeezed his body even tighter. After a moment of content silence, Rogue spoke, hesitant this time. "What did ya picture yer weddin' nigh' like?"   
  
"Our weddin' night?" he corrected her. "Not sure I should be tellin' you in front o' de bébé."   
  
Rogue pulled away and forcibly turned his head to see her. "Ah wanna know."   
  
Remy slid into a dangerous smile as he swung around. He walked his fingers up her outer thighs and gently gripped her hips, positioning her between his legs. With him sitting and her standing, her breasts were exactly level with his face, just the way he liked it. He looked up at her. "You sure, ma belle?" She nodded, numb with the heat of his breath through the flimsy satin of her wedding dress. "Maybe I don' tell you…but show you?"   
  
But his mouth was already there before she could even answer. Teasing, nipping, suckling, he used the material that separated his tongue from her flesh to his advantage until she whimpered his name, and then he stopped, letting the wet material cool in twin spots. He ran his hands up her sides, and brushed his thumbs over her well-loved nipples. "Dere just somet'ing 'bout breasts," Remy murmured, almost to himself. "You feed ma Madeline from dem…" He replaced his fingers with his mouth again. "But all I want is t'love dem."   
  
She plunged her fingers into his thick hair, her head thrown back in sheer pleasure. "Hank'd prob'ly say…somethin' 'bout a complex…or somethin'….Ah can't really…think righ' now…."   
  
"Don' t'ink, ma chere." He reluctantly stopped in order to stand up. When she opened her eyes, she found him looking down at her with an intense look of desire. "Jus' say you gonna let dis Caj'n show you everyt'ing we can do toget'er."   
  
Rogue licked her lower lip, making it shine in the light. "Yeah. Ah'm gonna." She looked around. "But…here?" Remy glanced significantly at the infirmary bed where she'd spent so much time after Madeline's birth. A little chill of excitement ran down her spine. "All righ'. Just…gimme a sec."   
  
To do so, Remy walked to the infirmary door and carefully closed it. After turning off the only overhead light still on, he gripped the cold, metal handle of the door for a second, collecting himself. Just bringing her pleasure had worked him up to a steely state. He took a breath and turned back around.   
  
She'd slipped out of her wedding dress and naked except for her white gloves, slipped between the crisp, clean sheets. As they were only pulled up to her waist, the breasts he loved lay exposed. "C'mere," Rogue beckoned, crooking a finger at him.   
  
He swallowed, suddenly feeling fourteen again. "Chere…you know you take de very breat' out o' me?"   
  
"We'll keep the sheet between us," Rogue said, her voice trembling slightly. "If ya keep yer shirt on…Ah can hold ya."   
  
Remy's reply was to shrug out of his tuxedo jacket and loosen the bowtie. He advanced on her, flinging the tie away, not caring where it landed. When he was at the bed, he reached into the pocket of his black pants and pulled out a pair of gloves that when he pulled them on, fit like a second skin. Rogue twisted the edge of the sheet around her own gloved fingers. "Remy?"   
  
He eased onto the bed like a serpent approaching his prey. The smoldering glint in his eyes made heat pool at the center of her body. She lay back against the pillows and looked up at him. "Show me, Remy."   
  
"Ma belle…" he whispered, stroking her cheek. The material was so smooth, she nearly gasped at the sensation. "My wife." Propped up over her on one elbow, Remy let his hand trail down the long length of her throat, over her delicate collarbone and down to her breast. Pausing to gently knead her nipple, he replied, "I show you."   
  
When his hand dipped between her skin and the covers and found her heat, Rogue gave herself up to the pleasure, cursing herself for having denied it for so long. His fingers loved her with skillful strokes while he watched her face for every reaction. She gripped the pillow underneath her head, lifting her hips up to meet him, but he urged her to lie still. Her scars were still healing, and he'd die before he hurt her ever again.   
  
He brushed his lips over hers for a second time that day when she came, but it was her soul that bled a little into his. As her breath returned to her, she opened her eyes, staring at him with love and wonder. "Dat won' be de last time for dis, eit'er, ma chere."   
  
Rogue's expression melted into a devilish smile as she ran her own hand over his hip, letting it cup his firm butt. "Your turn, swamp rat."   
  
****   
  
Hank found them the next morning when he came in to feed Madeline. Separated by both clothing and bedding, they were, nonetheless, entwined in the most intimate of embraces as they slept.   
  
He shook his head and pulled the curtain around the bed, in case anyone else decided to wander in before they woke.   
  
As he fed Madeline, he couldn't help but chuckle. "Darling child," he told their daughter. "I will not be surprised if your parents come up with a way to give you a brother or a sister in the future."   
  
****   
  
To Be Continued (yes, there will be more...) 


	14. All come true

Disclaimer: Characters not mine, never have been, never will be, etc, etc, etc. Sigh.   
  
Author's Notes: Thanks for hanging on this long, and for giving so much wonderful support. I've told many stories, but for some reason, this has (and continues to be) one of my favorites. I hope you're enjoying reading it just as much as I'm liking writing it. Angst, sap and sex...can't ever get enough of them;)   
  
****  
  
Unexpected   
  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****   
  
  
  
Eighteen months later   
  
"No."   
  
"Ma Madeline..." Remy gave his daughter a firm look. "Sit still for Hank."   
  
The toddler looked up at her father with her mother's brilliant green eyes and smiled, displaying the pearly baby teeth she'd only recently grown. With her fine, red curls pulled into twin pigtails and her dimpled cheeks, she was irresistible. "Papa."   
  
"W'at, petit?"   
  
"No."   
  
"I'd imagine that's fun to hear all day," the doctor said wryly, adjusting his glasses.   
  
"Dere be no stoppin' her when she get goin', mon ami." The Cajun man grimaced. "An' she been goin' since her mamán leave on de mission."   
  
"Well," Hank warmed up the cold metal of his stethoscope, lifted the ruffled lavender hem of Madeline's romper and pressed the device against her back. "Her breath sounds are good," he said after a moment.   
  
Remy frowned, although he was obviously relieved. "You be sure? She not comin' down wit' somet'ing?"   
  
Being quite used to his friend's over-anxiety where his only child was concerned, Hank simply shook his head. "No, she's perfectly healthy." He patted Madeline's head and she beamed at him. "Probably just missing Rogue."   
  
"Mama," Madeline said on cue. "Where Mama?"   
  
"She's starting to make sentences," the doctor commented, obviously pleased. "Smart girl."   
  
Remy nodded proudly. "Smart as de whip…she be her mamán's girl."   
  
"Don' listen to him, Hank. She's been her daddy's gal since the womb." Rogue entered the infirmary, a little worn, dragging her feet just a bit, but none the worse for wear as far as Remy could tell upon a cursory exam. His wife had been gone for almost two weeks on a mission with Storm, Jean, and Cyclops in South Africa, and seeing her unharmed made him release a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding in for that entire time.   
  
"Mama!" Madeline stretched out her chubby little arms towards her mother.   
  
Rogue let her travel bag slip off her shoulder. It landed with a soft thud on the floor as she went to her daughter. With protected arms, she picked the little girl up from the exam table and held her as close as she could. "Is somethin' wrong with her?" she asked her husband, suddenly worried.   
  
"Non, ma chere," he replied, tugging gently on the miniscule white sandal that encased Madeline's foot. "I jus' t'ought she migh' be catchin' somet'ing from de ot'er petits in de playgroup, dat be all."   
  
"But she's not. I give her a clean bill of health," Hank finished for him. "Don't forget, however, that she's due for her next set of immunization shots next week."   
  
Rogue instinctively held her baby tighter. Shots were just generally all around awful, especially when she was helpless to make Madeline's pains go away. "We won' forget, 'cause Ah'm sure yer gonna remind us a million times 'fore then."   
  
He smiled. "I will endeavor to not become a pest." Madeline yawned, and cuddled her head up against the high collar of Rogue's uniform. "It looks as though someone is ready for her nap."   
  
"We be goin'." Remy picked up Rogue's abandoned bag as she carried Madeline towards the door. "Merci, mon ami."   
  
Rogue smiled at the doctor. "Thanks, sugah."   
  
"You're welcome. Good to have you back with us," he told her.   
  
"Say bye-bye, Madeline," Rogue encouraged the little girl.   
  
"Bye-bye," the baby said sleepily.   
  
As they made their way through the mansion and out onto the back lawn, heading for the boathouse in which they'd been living since their wedding, Remy reached for Rogue's gloved hand. "Maybe you be needin' a nap, too, ma chere?"   
  
"Ah am a 'lil bit tired," she admitted. "It wasn' a breezy vacation, Ah'll say that much. But we did what we set out to do, an' Ah guess that's all we could do." Rogue squinted in the bright, afternoon sunlight to see him better. "Ya'll 'pparently held down the fort."   
  
"Not'ing to it, ma belle," he grinned. "Jus' me an' de ice cube an' de Kitty. An' de Professor, o' course. We keep t'ings runnin'."   
  
Rogue hesitated. "Any word from Logan?"   
  
He shook his head. "It been six months, chere. He come back when he be ready. Dat jus' his way."   
  
"Ah know." She rubbed Madeline's back. "It's just…Ah shared a room with Storm for the past two weeks." There was a pause as they reached the front door of the boathouse. "She dreams 'bout him, Remy. Like Ah used to dream 'bout…" Rogue stopped. "Ah just want her to be happy. Ah want everyone to be. 'Cause Ah am."   
  
Remy held the door open for her, and as she passed by, he kissed the top of her head. "Let's be puttin' de petit t'bed. De we talk, oui?"   
  
She threw him a look over her shoulder. "Do we gotta talk, sugah? Ah'm not really in a talkin' mood."   
  
He followed her into the cotton-candy pink nursery and set her bag down on the seat of the rocking chair. "W'at you in de mood for den, chere?"   
  
"Ah guess yer jus' gonna hafta hold on to yer britches an' find out." Rogue laid Madeline into her crib and unbuckled her sandals. Their daughter was already asleep. She smiled and ran her finger down the little girl's cheek. She could only imagine what Madeline's skin felt like, and it still stung a bit. "She's gettin' too big for this thing, Remy." Rogue sniffed suddenly as she set the tiny shoes aside.   
  
Remy was behind her in a flash, gently massaging her shoulders through the Lycra of her form-fitting suit. "De bébés…de grow up fast. No cause t'be sad 'bout it, ma chere."   
  
"Ah'm not. Well…maybe Ah am. Just a 'lil bit. Ah mean…she's the only one we'll prob'ly ever have, so Ah just…" He effectively stopped her by lightly blowing into her ear. His body pressed against her back. "Ah hope that's for me, sugah…an' that it ain' just yer damn bo staff."   
  
He laughed, making her shiver. "Ma Madeline not be de only one missin' you. We got a big bed, chere, an' it get very lonely w'en you not dere."   
  
Rogue turned around and looped her arms around his neck. "Poor darlin'…tell me what Ah can do to make it up to ya."   
  
"Gambit can t'ink o' a few t'ings…" With that, he scooped her up and carried her out of the nursery.   
  
The sun had almost completely set by the time they got around to talking. With his shirt unbuttoned, but not stripped off, Rogue was able to curl up alongside his chest, and feel the comfortable weight of his arm around her shoulder. She closed her eyes for a second, breathing in his scent, feeling his heart beating just underneath her ear and just reveling in the lingering pleasure. "Ah love ya, sugah," she said, breaking the silence.   
  
He looked down at the top of her head. The golden-red light from the setting sun that streamed through the window had turned her normally auburn hair into a fire-red to rival the Phoenix's. "You better, chere. Gambit had t'read dis magazine for de femme's t'master dat last trick."   
  
She craned her neck around him to see the magazine lying on their nightstand. "Cosmo? Ya went out an' bought that?"   
  
"Anyt'ing for you, ma belle."   
  
Rogue's eyes narrowed as she read the address label at the bottom corner. "Are ya sure Kitty's not missin' it?"   
  
When she looked back at his face, she was pleased to see him properly remorseful. But in his own defense, he explained, "It was like takin' candy from de.."   
  
She sat up, her hands on her shapely, bare hips. "Thought yer stealin' days were over, sugah."   
  
He pulled her back into the circle of his arms. "Once a t'ief, always a t'ief, chere. Still love me?"   
  
"Well…Ah'm kinda stuck with ya now," she sighed dramatically. "Ya grow on a gal." Rogue tweaked his exposed nipple. "Like a wart."   
  
"Dat's sexy, chere."   
  
She was just about to reply when the very loud sound of Madeline crying as she woke up filtered through the baby monitor. They both sat up. "Oh…it's way past dinnertime, sugah! Ah bet she's starvin'!"   
  
"Gambit have all de fun o' feedin' de petit for two weeks." Remy settled back into the pillows, tucking both of his hands behind his head. "He happy t'hand over de pleasure t'you now."   
  
Rogue threw him a dirty look as she slid out of bed and reached into a chest of drawers for fresh clothes. Madeline, while pretty and girly and lady-like in so many other ways, was a notoriously messy eater, especially now that she had control over her own food for the most part. "Yer such a gentleman, swamp rat."   
  
He grinned at her. "I try hard. Ayez un bon temps, ma chere."   
  
If she'd had a pillow handy, she would have thrown it at him. Have a good time, indeed.   
  
****   
  
The next morning, it was payback time, and Remy felt every second of it as Madeline played with the scrambled eggs on her high-chair tray. "Yum-yum," she told the rest of the table, looking down at the mess she'd made.   
  
"You know…she says that, but I'm not entirely sure I've seen any egg actually make it into her mouth," Jubilee commented, sipping her orange juice.   
  
"I'm kinda jealous," Bobby said, smiling at the toddler. "I wish I could play with my food and get away with it." As if thanking him for his support, Madeline extended her arm towards him, offering a crushed handful of egg.   
  
"Don' encourage her." Rogue took Madeline's hand and wiped it clean with her napkin. "She's already a terrible flirt."   
  
"It must run in the family," Storm said, staring listlessly into her coffee cup.   
  
Remy gave her a little wink, hoping to at least put a smile on her face. "You be callin' dis Caj'n a flirt, chere?"   
  
"No, sorry." She lifted her head. "I was talking about the other Cajun at the table." Because it would make him happy, not to mention get everyone to stop giving her sympathetic looks, she smiled when she said it.   
  
A pause followed that was neither comfortable, nor awkward. Madeline babbled something that sounded like "egg". Finally, Scott cleared his throat. "Training in twenty minutes. Remy and Bobby versus Kitty and Jean." He squeezed his wife's hand. "At noon, Rogue, I've got you and Hank going up against me and Storm. Jubes…" He paused. Jubilee's training was a sensitive subject ever since her primary trainer had left without a word to anyone in the middle of the night six months earlier. "One-on-one after your classes. Okay?"   
  
She shrugged. "I guess. Whatever."   
  
Just then, the Professor entered the dining room with Hank walking by his side. "Good morning, everyone," he greeted them. He smiled at the baby who sat in the high-chair between Rogue and Remy. "She doesn't really like eggs...but she's quite happy, having her mother back."   
  
"She not de only one," Remy tossed in.   
  
Xavier nodded, but hesitated before continuing, "Something was delivered here early this morning," he began. "Hank and I have been trying to examine it through its packaging, but our efforts have been in vain."   
  
Jean set down her tea. "Why don't you just open it, then?"   
  
"Because it's not addressed to me," the Professor said. "It's addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Remy LeBeau."   
  
The couple blinked simultaneously. "A package for us?" Rogue asked. "Ah haven't ordered anythin' lately."   
  
"There was no return address. Perhaps you should come down to the lab and open it."   
  
Scott pushed his chair back. "The lab? For a simple package, you're certainly taking a lot of precautions."   
  
"With good reason," Hank answered for the Professor. "The package weighs approximately ninety pounds and sets off metal detectors."   
  
Rogue swallowed and looked at her husband. "Ah'm guessin' it's prob'ly not silverware."   
  
He took her hand. "We go find out, chere."   
  
Jubilee perked up. "I'll watch Madeline," she offered. Their daughter gave her one of her best smiles and used her arm to sweep all of the eggs that remained on her tray onto the floor. "All gone!" she announced.   
  
"Hey," Kitty told the teenager as she and the older team members left, not so subtly hiding laughter behind their hands. "You volunteered."   
  
Down in the lab, the mood instantly sobered. The package was wrapped in plain brown paper, addressed in thick, black marker, and sat behind a shield of protective plastic. "We don' know who left it?" Remy asked.   
  
"No fingerprints showed up, and the security cameras picked up nothing unusual. It was left on the front doorstep." The Professor looked at them. "It's up to both of you to decide what to do with it."   
  
The couple exchanged another look. "What'd ya think, sugah?" Rogue asked softly.   
  
"Gambit be curious," he admitted. "But say de word, an' I blow it sky high."   
  
She licked her lips. "Ah'm curious, too." After a second, she nodded. "Let's open it an' see."   
  
When the paper was carefully removed, they found themselves staring at a metal box, one foot by one foot with extremely fine grating across two sides, too fine to allow them to see inside. "W'at de hell is it?" Remy asked, squinting at the grey object.   
  
"I couldn't hazard a guess if I tried," Hank admitted.   
  
Storm shook her head. "I don't like it. Something's just not right about this."   
  
"My first instinct is to agree," the doctor continued. He took a step towards the object in question. "But the scientist in me..." As he stepped closer, the box began emitting a low humming sound and a previously unnoticed panel on the top lit up. "Stand back!"   
  
Remy stepped in front of Rogue as everyone else moved away from the device. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a playing card. "Gambit take care o' dis." After a second of holding the card between his fingers, he frowned. "W'at's goin' on?" He shook out his hand. "De card ain' chargin'." Remy looked at his wife. "I be broken, chere."   
  
"You're not broken," Scott said. After a second, he lifted up his sunglasses.   
  
"Scott!" Jean's voice was sharp with warning, but when nothing happened, she gasped. "Scott..."   
  
"It's a power dampener. I saw something like it…when we rescued Rogue from Antarctica." He blinked, and looked around the room for a second, free and clear of the red-tinted glasses. His gaze eventually wandered back to his wife. Scott smiled. "God, you're beautiful."   
  
Jean reached out her hand, blinking back tears, and ran her thumb over his eyebrow. "And your eyes are blue. I never knew that."   
  
Hank shook his head. "Fascinating. A portable dampening field. I wonder how far it extends around the room. We'll have to run more tests, of course, to make sure there's no side effects from the..."   
  
Remy heard none of this. He turned to his wife, pulled her towards him with two firm hands on her hips, and lowered his mouth to hers in a deep, full-contact kiss.   
  
****  
  
"Are you having trouble sleeping, Ororo?" Storm turned her head to see Hank as he entered the parlor. When he got closer and saw the child he'd brought into the world eighteen months earlier fast asleep in her arms, he made a noise of understanding. "Oh, I see."  
  
"They deserve a night alone with their new toy," the weather goddess commented, gently stroking Madeline's baby-fine curls. "I don't mind looking after her. Because you're right…" She paused. "I can't sleep anymore."  
  
Hank moved around the couch and sat down next to her. "Is there anything you wish to talk about with an old friend?"  
  
A hint of a smile crossed her face. "There isn't much that escapes the gossip circuit, Hank. I am sure you know more about my personal life than you ever wanted to." He waited a moment for her to go on. "The worst part is just not knowing where he is. Whether he's safe or not….alive or…alive or dead. If I just knew something…anything…"   
  
"He's too connected to this place, to us, to have died without one of us feeling it," he replied with what he hoped was reassurance. "Logan is a restless soul. Like an unpredictable wind."  
  
"I know." Storm's voice was soft. "And no one can calm the wind."  
  
"No one…except you, my dear." Hank stood up. "Goodnight. And please…try to rest yourself."  
  
When he was gone, she hugged the little girl in her arms closer to her chest. Remy and Rogue's daughter smelled like powder and baby shampoo from her bath, a clean, sweet smell that made Storm's chest ache for the child she'd lost only a month after he'd vanished. Logan's child. It was a secret she'd shared with no one, not even the trusted doctor who'd just left her side. There wasn't any reason to worry anyone now. As best as she could figure it, the baby had only been with her for two months, before some unknown cause had made it flow from her body in the middle of the night. The blood had been washed away, but the pain and grief, she would carry them forever.   
  
She stood up, cradling Madeline as she slept. "At least I can be your godmother," she whispered to the child. "And whenever I'm called, I will take care of you as if you were my own. I promise."  
  
****  
  
"Mind-blowing sex" was a phrase that got tossed around in conversations between Rogue's fellow female teammates, not entirely casually, but usually heart-felt. She'd always thought it must be subjective. Making love with Remy in the cave had been wonderful, but there had been pain that never quite went away entirely, even through the pleasure. She'd convinced herself that mind-blowing sex must only happen on rare, once-in-a-lifetime occasions. If you were lucky.   
  
Now, however, Rogue understood it. And she understood that the other woman had no idea what it really meant. Mind-blowing sex didn't just mean explosions all throughout your body, or the inability to think about anything but the person above you….or below you, or beside you, or behind you…it meant sex with the singular goal of melting into the man you loved, merging into him, becoming part of him, but only if that man was her Cajun husband.   
  
She'd lost track of the time since they'd locked themselves in the boathouse with the dampening field generator, but they were definitely into the early morning hours. After all, it had taken most of the day for Hank and the Professor to run the necessary tests on their strange, new present. The wait had only been bearable in the moments when the device was turned on and she could reach for Remy's hand.   
  
Or pick up her daughter without gloves. Even now as she came down from the heights only he could drive her to, Rogue felt herself tear up. It had been a day she'd never forget as long as she lived, and it had all started with his kiss. After that, Jubilee had brought Madeline down to the lab. And for the first time, Rogue touched her daughter's cheek. And it was the softest thing in the world.   
  
As though she'd known what was going on, Madeline had reached for her face, a habit Rogue thought she'd broken her daughter of when she was much smaller. This time, however, the little girl pressed her tiny hands on either side of Rogue's mouth. "Mama okay," she'd asked.   
  
Rogue had nodded through her tears and kissed all ten of her daughter's chubby little digits in turn. "Mama okay," she'd repeated hoarsely.   
  
Remy had watched it all, held her hand when he could, taken Madeline from her when her happy tears began to worry the child, and waited for whatever was going to come next. He was like a steady rock, never once mentioning the potential drastic changes in their lives that this device could bring about. Still, it was there in his eyes when he looked at her. Hunger and desire sparked fresh, given new hope.   
  
But when Hank had declared the device safe for at least short-term use, and after Storm had volunteered to take Madeline for the night, nothing had stopped him from picking her up and carrying her to the boathouse…although he had let her carry the box.   
  
And now he was entwined with her, dropping little kisses along her flushed neck as the intensity of orgasm dissipated into the warmth of afterglow. Remy lifted his head from the crook of her neck and kissed her languidly, taking the time to savor the feeling of their tongues meeting and melding. He made a noise in the back of his throat, an erotic sound of pure contentment. "I won' ever be tired o' dis, chere." His lips met hers again. "Dere be a million kisses t'make up for."  
  
Rogue ran her hands up and down his sweat-slick back, enjoying the sensation of each dip and ridge created by his muscles against her bare fingertips. She shifted underneath him, closing her eyes briefly when a leftover shiver of pleasure hit her. "It's like Ah'm livin' in my very best dream," she whispered. "Ah just wanna stay in it…an' never move again. S'that okay?"   
  
He replied with another kiss. "Not a dream no more, ma belle."  
  
As much as Rogue wanted nothing of the outside world to touch them that night, a thought nagged at the back of her brain, getting more insistent by the moment. "Remy," she began, regretting the words even before she said them. "Ain' ya curious…who gave this to us?"   
  
It took a second for him to reply. "Far as dis Caj'n can tell…dere be only guess."  
  
"Erik," she said. The mood stilled somewhat, and she looked up at her husband. His eyes were averted, caught between anger and confusion. She couldn't blame him. Erik had hurt their family so much, but if he had sent them the ability to be together in every sense of the word, it would be very hard to hate him. "He called it his technology, sugah. An' now…it's here…in our bedroom."  
  
"Gambit know dat." Without warning, he eased out of her body and flopped onto his back beside her. Biting her lip, Rogue glanced over at him as he scrubbed his hands down his face. She waited for him to go on, but when he did his words floored her. "He mus' love you, chere. Not dat I could blame him…but he love you a lot. T'give you dis gift, but wit' anot'er man." Remy turned his head to see her. "Not sure I could do de same in his place."  
  
"Ah think ya would," Rogue told him, honestly. "The last thing ya are, swamp rat, is selfish. If Madeline needed a new heart…ye'd cut out yer own an' give it to her." She rolled onto her side and hooked her leg around his, suggestively. "Ya married me, not knowin' we'd ever get to be together like this." She kissed his shoulder, letting her tongue dance over the salty patch of skin for a brief second. "He migh' love me…at least, his version o' love…but Ah'm here. An' Ah got no plans to leave 'til my time's up."   
  
His reply was rough with too much emotion. "Promise, chere."  
  
She let her fingers trail over his ribs before she held up the back of her hand for him to see the rings on her left hand. "Ah already have, sugah."  
  
Remy sat up, forcing her up as well. She could see passion burning in his eyes as he grasped her slender shoulders in his rough, but gentle hands. "Dis t'ing change our sex life…but dere not'ing dat can ever change de way I feel 'bout you. You an' ma Madeline…you be w'at dis t'ief live for now."  
  
"We're not goin' anywhere, Remy, Ah swear." She cupped his stubbled face in her hands. "Ah swear."   
  
He pushed her back down onto the rumpled sheets with the force of his kiss, but she offered up no complaint. Tender, sweet lovemaking had its place, but that time was about pure need. He took her hard and fast, and she got back as much as she gave from the wonder that was his body. Rogue kissed his face all over afterwards as he tried to stay awake, loving him for the effort. Eventually, she urged him to give in and within seconds, she had a very heavy, very asleep man resting on her breast.   
  
She lay awake awhile longer. There really wasn't any way to contact Erik; he'd made sure of that, but she could thank him for this one small thing within the part of her heart that was able to forgive him for her kidnapping and Madeline's premature birth. He was a chapter in her life that might never be closed as long as she continued to work with the X-Men and interact with the rest of the world's mutants. But Remy and Madeline were a much more important chapter. For the first time in a long time, Rogue fell asleep, and let the past rest.   
  
****  
  
At the same time Rogue was releasing her inner demons, Logan was wallowing in his. The room he'd rented was directly over a tanner's shop in Vancouver, and stunk of tanning oils and dead animal skins. He had nothing but the clothes on his back and a blanket to keep him warm; he hadn't even removed his boots. Cold wouldn't kill him as it might any other man, but neither would it do him any good to get frostbitten.   
  
But he would have been freezing even if he were bunking down in Jamaica. She wasn't sleeping beside him, he couldn't just turn over and touch his Storm, kiss her soft lips, bury himself within the searing heat of her body. He was thousands of miles away from home, but a million more away from what he needed the most.   
  
And all for the sake of his foolish pride, his unwillingness to forget his painful past. He cursed in his sleep, calling out for her, needing her as he might never have needed any other woman before her. Why couldn't he have told her the one thing she needed to hear? When she was finally ready for the details, the three short words that would have solved everything, when she was ready to say them, he'd frozen. And been unable to say what was at the very core of his soul.   
  
"Love you…Ro," he grunted into his pillow. "Love you."   
  
Leaving might have been cowardly, but staying away was the best thing he could do for her.  
  
****  
  
To Be Continued (so close, but yet, so far) 


	15. Wherever you are

Disclaimer: At no time since I began writing this story have these characters come under my possession.   
  
Author's Notes: See next chapter.  
  
****  
  
Unexpected  
  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
Life is strange, such joy and pain  
  
The betrayal and the kiss  
  
It may be meant to be, maybe destiny  
  
Leads us down a path like this  
  
A child is born, true love is sworn  
  
And all the in-between  
  
Well you just walk on, walk on until the path is gone  
  
Learning love is the only everything  
  
-Celeste Prince  
  
****  
  
One year later  
  
"Papa." Madeline tugged on the leg of Remy's jeans. "Papa…Mama's tummy moves!"   
  
Remy kneeled down to his two and a half year-old daughter's level and nodded. "Dat be your bébé brot'er, petit," he explained slowly. "He almos' ready t'come out an' meet you."  
  
"Thank god…" Rogue muttered. She drew in a breath as the baby who'd been happily nestled in her belly for the past eight months kicked her sharply, apparently aware that he was being discussed. She was, by far, more anxious than even the future big sister to have the baby born.  
  
"Baby brudder," Madeline repeated. She frowned, her perfect little face puckering up as she tried to reconcile the huge mound of her mother's stomach with the pictures she'd been shown of babies. After a second, she gave up and looked back at her father. "Gotta go potty."   
  
"Ah'll take her," Rogue said, struggling to get off the couch. "Ah won' be able to move much longer." Despite her grumbling, she caught Remy's eye and winked. When she was standing, balancing somewhat precariously for her husband's liking, she reached down for Madeline's hand. Unless the person carrying her was her father, their daughter liked to walk on her own. She was an independent soul. "Come on, baby-girl."   
  
Madeline looked up at her mother. "Not a baby, Mama."   
  
"Not a baby," Rogue conceded. "But come on anyways, sugah."   
  
Remy watched his two favorite females in the entire world make their way down the hall, heading for the bathroom. He sat back onto the sofa, preparing to enjoy the lingering warmth from his wife's body. However, something underneath him squeaked in protest, making him jump back up. Madeline's rubber duck. He pulled it out from between the couch cushions. How the hell had it gotten out of the bathroom? Remy shook his head. Now that Madeline was entirely mobile by herself, they found things in the strangest places. One of Rogue's gloves in the sink, a plastic juice cup underneath his pillow, she liked to move things, and try to hide them as best she could. There wasn't an inch of the boathouse that hadn't been child-proofed, but his daughter was clever and quick.  
  
Had certain events turned out differently, and she'd come into his life when he was still with the Guild, she might have grown up to surpass even his thieving skills. Fortunately, she hadn't been, and she would never have to know the dangers of his former existence. Madeline could be anything she wanted to be; he was going to make sure of that. And with a little bit of Lady Luck's charm, his efforts with the team might create a world in which her inevitable mutant powers would be accepted and tolerated.   
  
As he set aside the rubber duck, Remy was struck with the domesticity that had overtaken his life. The Ragin' Cajun had turned into a husband, a father, and a respected member of the X-Men…and he liked it. No one who'd known him in the past would have guessed it, but this was truly what he'd always wanted. He could fight and sweat and swear and blast things all day in the Danger Room or on a mission, but he came home at night to a little bit of himself with red curls trying to tell him about the exciting things she'd done that day with the few words in her vocabulary, and his soulmate giving him the coy smile he'd come to know as the "yer gonna get lucky tonigh' grin." Life was frighteningly close to perfection.   
  
He heard the toilet flush, and a minute later Rogue and Madeline reappeared, the little girl running ahead of her waddling mother. She climbed up her father's legs and plopped down onto his lap. "Papa, read a story."  
  
"W'at story, petit?" Remy asked, putting his arm around her protectively.   
  
Madeline didn't get a chance to answer. Just then, there was a knock on the boathouse door. Rogue started for it, but Remy stood up, still holding Madeline. "Sit down, chere," he told her. "We get it."   
  
She put up no protest; her feet were aching worse than the town drunk's head on Sunday morning. "Thanks, sugah." With that, she eased herself down onto the couch, frowning at the rubber duck sitting on one arm of it.  
  
"Doorbell goes 'ding-dong'," Madeline told him as he carried her towards it.   
  
"Dat it does. Den we answer it, an' tell Uncle Scott t'go away…we not trainin' no more today."  
  
"Go 'way, Unca Scott," she repeated.   
  
"Dat's my girl." Remy reached the door and shifted Madeline into one arm in order to open it. Upon seeing the person on the stoop, he nearly dropped her. "Mon Dieu dans le ciel…" he breathed.   
  
Logan leaned against the doorframe, covered in dried blood, sweat, and wounds that had yet to heal despite his formidable skin. He forced his head up and squinted through swollen, blackened eyes. "Storm…" he managed to say. "I'm home."  
  
Remy watched, utterly stunned, as the battered man collapsed to the ground. Madeline's lower lip trembled as she watched her father's face. "Big man fell down, Papa."  
  
He blinked. "Oui, petit. That he did."   
  
****  
  
Fini (see author's notes) 


	16. Onwards to the future

This is a little unorthodox for me, but I wanted to take a special moment to thank everyone (yet again, I know) for all the reviews and support ya'll have given me during the course of this story. I've loved telling, and loved hearing what you thought about it. I can't adequately express my appreciation, but know that it's there.  
  
But wait...there's more. Did you think I'd just leave things where I did??? Never. I have planned for awhile to write a different story, telling "Unexpected" from Storm and Wolverine's perspective, but now I think that while there will be another story, it's going to pick up from the end of this one.   
  
Does that sound like something people would be interested in reading? I hope so, 'cause I'm gonna write it anyways;) It's part of this story, and I need to tell it.   
  
Okay, that wraps things up for now. My thanks again. Take it easy, and I'll see ya'll soon!   
  
Kristen Elizabeth  
  
June 18, 2003 


End file.
